Hypothermia
by Tir na noir
Summary: After ten years of ignoring each other, the Bladebreakers once again meet for a reunion in California. But when their plane disappears over the Rocky Mountains, they must survive not only the cold, but also the threat of bullets from the pilots who crashed the plane. CHAPTER 19 ADDED!
1. Chapter 1

**I must be crazy, starting a new story now. It's probably been a year since I last posted anything, but here I am again. I've read some chapters from my old story, Like It Is in Heaven, and I found so many spelling mistakes, its just embarrasing. I hope I have improved since last year, but please bear with me. Anyway, it feels great being back, with a new project. This one won't be as long as Like It Is in Heaven, but we'll see where it goes. Reviews are, as allways, highly appreciated. **

**Disclaimer (counts for the whole story): I own nothing. The plot is slightly based on the movie Cliffhanger.**

**Main Characters - age**

**Kai -**** 27**

**Tyson - 25**

**Max - 25**

**Ray - 26**

**Kenny - 24**

**Hilary – 25**

**Plot Summary: It's been ten years since the Beybreakers parted for good, five years since they stopped talking over the phone, and now they are all invited to a reunion at the Beyblade Research Center in America. But when their jet disappears over the Rocky**** Mountains, will they even get to the reunion alive?**

**Chapter 1**

Moscow, February 28th 2010, 21:08

"... And so, ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to pass the word on, to... Kai Hiwatari!"

Kai stood behind the scene curtains, sweat starting to show itself on his forehead. As the crowd applauded, he closed his eyes for a second, before taking his first step onto the scene floor. The lights hit his eyes and blinded him from seeing the crowd, which was probably a good thing. He shook the host's hand, and then quickly inhaled to calm his nerves. The applause died down, and he was left in a silence so horrible, it felt like he had gone deaf.

A sudden warmth in his pocket caught his attention. Its okay, he thought. You can do this. Just... breathe.

"Good evening everyone," he began. Smooth, he thought. "And welcome to the end of what I believe has been some of the hardest, yet most giving, years of the Hiwatari Corporation. Two years ago, all of you, except Frank over there," Kai snorted with restrained laughter, and waved casualy at someone sitting on the second row. They all laughed as Frank rose from his chair and started waving his arms up and down like he was worshipping Kai like a god.

"Thank you Frank. Two years ago, all of you looked to me to sort out a problem of great proportions. After my grandfather's imprisonment, the building known as The Abbey was left without any leaders, and so the government finally found reason to shut the business down. After a policesearch, 67 children were found inside The Abbey, with no families or identification. It is today my great pleasure to announce that all of the children have been reunited with their families, and are taken good care of."

They all applauded, and some of them even rose from their chairs with proud grins. He quickly recognized a few of them as some of the kid's parents. The light blinding him, moved slightly, and suddenly he gazed upon a crowd big enough to make his knees weak. Somehow, he felt colder inside, the stomack ache subsided, and the shiwer stopped.

"This would never have happened, was it not for all of you. You all gave these children a future, and a reason to move on." He locked eyes with someone standing in the doorway on the far side of the room. The artificial glow coming from the welcoming light of the entrance hall left her as a dark silhuette; still he smirked ever so slightly as he once more turned to the crowd.

"And so, with no more talk about the past, I urge you to look to the future instead. We have a lot of work to do if we want this business back in action. My father often told me when I was a kid that nothing just comes along by itself, only illness and poverty. I am willing to do my very best to get this train back on track, but I can not do it without a crew. So, ladies and gentlemen, five days from now when the official Hiwatari Corporation office building is opened, we start making our own futures. And I want you all to be a part of it! Thank you."

Kai smiled slightly, and stepped away from the microphone. The room was filled with applause, and as he made his was down from the stage and through the crowd, he felt a great relief that it was all over. Or just maybe this was the true beginning? He felt hands pat him on his shoulders and back, and he spent a whole of five minutes just shaking hands with people he had never even talked to.

He started feeling uncomfortable in his new, black suit, and wanted nothing more but to disappear. But before he knew it, he was standing face to face with Igor Petrov, the sales director. Petrov was a huge man, and Kai feared for his suit, which had already started to widen under the pressure from the man's ridiculously large belly.

"Kai!" he exclaimed. Kai tried to force a smile on his face, but failed misserably. "What an inspiring speach. I must say, this gathering is quite nice. I met some people not twenty minutes ago whom I have not have the epleasure to have a comversation with in years! And the food is most tasty, indeed. Oh, may I introduce my wife, Guro, she has been just out of herself waiting to meet you."

Kai could only stare, as the most disgustingly ugly woman he had ever seen in his life, rose from her chair, and reached out her hand for him to kiss it. She looked more like a Tim Burton character than anything else, with a dress looking like it was sewn in the 1920's, and a mop of hair Kai thought had not been in contact with shampoo for almost a decade. He shook her hand quickly, and gave her a polite nod.

"Mister Hiwatari," she said, flashing her eyelashes. Kai thought he might gag. "I must thank you for your invitation. Your assistant told me you had requested our presence as a high priority. I am most glad you and my husband go along that well."

Kai frowned, and looked up to see Frank grinning at him, lifting his thumb in a congratulating gesture. He gave his assistant a death glare, before turning to Mrs Petrov. "Of course, it is my pleasure to see you both this evening. But if you will excuse me-"

"Me and my husband have a matter to attend to," a gentle voice from behind him interrupted. Kai sighed in relief, as a hand gripped around his arm, and led him through the tables, and in as wide a range from the chairs and their occupants as possible.

"Save me, save me, save me, save me," Kai whispered under his breath, and they both walked even faster as they entered the hall. The warm light fell over him like the last rays from a sunset, and he finally found himself relaxing, his breath going back to normal.

"Saved your ass again, didn't I?" Katya said. She led him to one of the sitting chairs around the huge, dark fireplace by the bar. Kai sunk into the fabric, feeling his back ache from the stess he had felt ever since he woke up that morning. He leaned his head against the back of the chair, and just felt the pain in his muscles. It was something he had learned in The Abbey; if you focus on the fact that your pain is actually present, you notice less of the actual feeling of pain. It didn't seem to work this time though; his mind was full of something else.

Kai turned his head slowly, and saw the girl sitting next to him, watching him with a grin on her face.

"What?" Kai asked, smirking.

"Noothin'" She replied. Katya was your typical business girl; slim figure, curly brown hair like a waterfall down her back, and eyes as grey as the British sky. Only two weeks after he had returned to Moscow, almost ten years ago, that young girl had applyed for a possition in a company that did not then even exist. As far as he knew, she had run away from her home further north, and wanted to make a living in Russia's most dangerous city. He had first thought her to be unbelievably naive, but stood corrected, as she had proven herself more that worthy of a chance.

"You know that little stunt might have cost me my reputation," Kai said, chuckling. He could just too easily imagine Mrs Petrov and her big mouth in the office next morning, telling everyone withing hearing range that he was married. Kai Hiwatari, the infamous ice prince, married! Just to think of the possibility seemed ridiculous to most people.

"Oh, you're welcome," Katya said, closing her eyes and sinking deeper into her chair. The fire dancing inside the fireplace sent shadows floating across her face, like waves of water do to the underside of a docking boat. He could hear voices coming from the other room; people giving compliments, talking business, or just catching up.

A couple of guests came casualy walking out from the main room, all of them fishing cigarettes and lighters up from their pockets or purses. Kai ignored them.

"Oh, that's right! This letter was dropped by your office this afternoon," Katya opened her purse, and found a thin, white envelope. "Don't expect me to pick up your mail again, Mr. Hiwatari," she said. "I have more than enough to do by myself."

"I am sure you do," Kai replied, taking the envelope. He opened it and folded out the sheet of paper. He was more than used to receiving letters, e-mails and being phoned at the weirdest hours. Sometimes he woke in the middle of the nigt, having to spend several hours by the phone, explaining to some jackass how to do the most random things on their work. It almost always ended with him yelling at them to give him a break and go to bed.

This time though, he could not find the company logo on the envelope, nor the professional writing of someone used to kissing ass whenever they had the opportunity. He had to read the name of the dispatcher three times, before his brain understood who it was.

"Mr. Dickenson," he whispered, memories coming back by the second. It felt like forever since he had last met the man, the chairman of the BBA. Kai sat up straight, leaned forward on his elbows and folded the letter out on his knees.

_Dear Mr. Hiwatari_

_It is my great pleasure__ to invite you to the first official reunion of the Championship Teams of 2005. The reunion will be held in Los Angeles, California, 18__th__ of March. _

_If you decide to come, you will be metting the rest of your former team at the JFK Airport, 17__th__ of March._

_We hope to see you_

_Stanley Dickenson, BBA_

_P.S: Don't worry, Ray knows the details. I heard about your work with The Abbey. Well done._

"Anything good?" Katya asked from somewhere in the chair she had sunk comepletely into. Kai folded the sheet back into the envelope, and got lost in his own thoughts. _Don't worry, Ray knows the details_. Just as randomly as if they'd been in contact for years. It had been so long, he had almost forgotten what his old teammates looked like. Strange to think it had been ten years already.

"Excuse me," Kai said, rising from his chair, while putting the letter in his pocket. Katya looked up, snapping awake.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Why? The party has just begun!"

"I have some arrangements to make," he said, putting on his jacket. He smiled at her, and took a step outside the entrance doors. The warm room disappeared behind him, and he was suddenly met by millions of raindrops falling from the pitch black sky. The cold north wind played in his hair, and penetrated his clothes, touching his skin like needles. He looked around, tried to see past the rain, and saw a lone taxi driving down the other side of the street. He lifted his hand into the air, and ten seconds later, the taxi was parked right in front of him. Kai opened the door and got inside, away from the cold. After giving the driver his address, he just sat there, looking out the window, watching streetlamps and buildings pass by.

He could feel the letter in his pocket, and his thoughts drifted away, to past years. It was like a mist had cloaked his memories, leaving only faded pictures and feelings behind. He could still see Tysons dojo, still hear Max's laughter, and still feel the warm sun on his skin from when he used to sit outside the dojo, watching the others practise. But more than anything, he could feel the sensation of launching a bayblade into a beydish, all eyes on him and his bitbeast, as the beautiful firebird rose to the sky.

After all these years, am I finally going back? This might be interesting, he thought. In his hand he now held Dranzer's old bitchip, still as good as new. The familiar warmth tingled in his hand, like it wanted to encourage him, and give him strength. Raindrops kept rolling down the windows, drumming on the car like thousands of little feet running. When he paid the driver, and opened the door, it seemed like the darkness outside wanted to hold him back. He ran up the driveway to his grandfathers old summer mansion, feeling like someone had just thrown a bucket of ice cold water in his face.

The driver watched as he opened the huge entrance door, and waited till he disappeared inside the dark house, before he flipped out a cellphone, holding it up to his ear.

"He just received it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews guys! **

**Chapter 2**

* * *

_Somewhere in China, March 16th, 02:43_

It had been a surprisingly warm winter that far. The ground was covered in a thin layer of snow, making the night a little brighter. Ray sat on the roof of his old family house, his arms wrapped protectively around his legs, his chin leaning heavily on his knees. A cold, almost unbearable wind shuffled his long, black hair, and he just closed his eyes, as if that was enough to shield him from the curse of winter. This valley had been his home for as long as he could remember. A small village, surrounded by breathtaking nature, and he had never wanted anything else.

The roof was his favorite spot. Here he had a full view of the village, the main road which disappeared around distant trees, and the clear, empty sky. Nothing could happen without him noticing it.

"There you are." Ray had heard the window open, and recognized the footsteps, all due to his keen sense of hearing. He sat completely still, and opened his eyes as he felt his old friend sit down next to him.

"I just needed some time to think, Lee," Ray mumbled. Lee slowly nodded, looking up at the starry sky.

"Look, you see that?" He asked. Ray directed his gaze towards the sky and tried to find whatever Lee had pointed out.

"What?"

"See those tiny stars that are kind of making a group there? It's the Andromeda galaxy, our closest galaxy neighbor. That's 200 000 light years away, so it's kind of cool that the light we see just now, is the same light it sent out 200 000 light years ago. Don't you think?" Lee sent him a sideway glance, a tired grin on his face.

"You should go to bed, Lee" Ray said, placing his chin back on his knee.

"No, I'm good," he said, chuckling. Lee grabbed a handful of snow, and threw it as far as he could into the dark. A second later they could hear it hit the neighbors' window. "You know," he continued. "It's been a long time since I last saw Tyson and the others. I can't help but wonder whatever happened to them."

Ray turned to look at his best friend. "You read the letter?"

"Guilty." Lee found another handful of snow, and started shaping it into a ball. "So, when you go, take loads of pictures, will you?"

Ray looked at him, surprised. "Are you kidding me? I can't go! Not now!"

"Yes, you can," Lee replied. His voice had taken on a serious tone, and it became clear to Rey that there was no changing his best friends mind.

"But what about-?"

"She'll be fine; I'll be here, watching over her, like always. Besides, it's just for a couple of days."

Ray shook his head, staring at him angrily. "A couple of days are more than enough for something to happen; she needs me!"

"Mariah is stronger than both of us put together, Ray," Lee mumbled. He sat looking down at the snow covering the roof, hiding his pained expression from Ray. "Besides, it's been ten years, man. You miss them, I know you do. It's too easy to tell."

"I don't care, Lee. It doesn't matter, anyway. If I go, what am I then supposed to tell Sarah?"

"Don't offend me! You don't think we can manage to entertain your little girl while you're gone three days? I mean, she laughs from Kevin's jokes, and seriously, who does that part from her!"

"So, the other guys aren't going either?"

"Don't think so," Lee said. He finally threw the snowball in the same direction he had thrown the first one. It hit the exact same window, with a force that made the glass jingle. "Listen, Ray. I've seen you practicing with Drigger; I've seen the longing in your eyes. You need this."

"But Mariah needs me."

"You cannot help anyone, Ray, not before you help yourself. Tomorrow, you will take the first plane to New York, and have a hell of a good time. Don't you worry about her, she's in good hands."

Ray frowned, looking to the dark shapes of the mountains in the horizon. Then he nodded, picked up his jacket, and rose to his feet. "I'll better hurry then." He sent his friend a smirk, opened the skylight, and disappeared into the house. Lee sat on the roof for a little while, staring up at the pitch black sky. _200 000 light years_, he thought. _Amazing_.

* * *

_Tokyo, Japan, March 16th, 14:08_

"And stay out, Tyson, you hear me!"

Tyson barely made it out the door, before it was slammed in his face. He suddenly stood staring at his own front door with a puzzled look on his face, not believing he had just been rejected. He then noticed that he was wearing nothing but boxers and a white t-shirt, and the ground was white with unexpected snow.

"Oh, come on, Hilary! We both know you're going to let me in eventually, so why make it such a big deal!" He shouted to the door. An old woman, walking her dog, kept staring at him as she made her way across the street. Tyson waved at her and shouted a jolly "Good morning!". Two in the evening, but whatever.

"Just fuck the hell off, Tyson!"

"Okay, FINE! If that's what you really want, then I will! Just give me my clothes, woman!" He stood on the front porch for maybe half a minute, before his clothes were tossed out of the kitchen window and landed on the dirty ground. He kept swearing as he jumped into a pair of worn out jeans, and put on a pair of shoes. He then threw a jacket on his back, and tried to flatten his hair with his fingers, as he walked down the street, not really knowing where he was going. He found his wallet in the pocket of the jacket, and looked through its contents. He quickly found his credit card, and made his way to the Centrum, while on the lookout for a decent café.

It was a beautiful morning, and the thin layers of snow were already starting to melt into small rivers. The sunbeams reflected in the tall office buildings, and the pale blue sky made him feel light and free. He would make it up to Hilary somehow. He always did.

Tyson found a nice looking building on the corner of a street, which could only be a café. A bell above the door chimed merrily, and a couple of heads turned in his direction, and stayed with him as he made his way to the counter. It was filled with sandwiches, cakes, drinks and chocolates in all shapes and colors, and he soon found himself almost drooling over it all.

"Anything I can help you with, sir?" asked a cute blonde behind the desk. She was slim and petite, with curly, golden hair, like a waterfall down her back, and eyes the color of the deep, blue sea. Her t-shirt was bright yellow, with the café logo on the right side of her chest, and she held a tray of coffee cups in her hands. Her smile sent shivers down Tyson's spine.

"Indeed, you can, miss," he said, leaning on the counter, and waiving with his credit card. "I'll have one of those sandwiches and a cup of coffee, please."

"Make that two coffees, miss."

Tyson turned and broke into a huge smile. Kenny had changed a lot during the last ten years. He was now as tall as himself, slim and well trained, with short, cut hair and new contact lenses. He was wearing a black suit, and held a briefcase in his hands.

Tyson and Kenny paid for their food, and found themselves a spot by a window facing the Centrum Park. Tyson started eating his sandwich like he hadn't seen food in two days, and Kenny soon had to hide his slightly disgusted expression.

"So… ehm, how did your interview go?" Tyson asked between bites. Kenny snapped back to the conversation, and took a sip of his still too hot coffee.

"Great, I got the job," he said.

Tyson brightened up, and patted Kenny on the shoulder. "That's my boy! See, I told you you'd be fine!" He then turned serious, and swallowed the last bite. "So, you're moving then?"

Kenny nodded. "Yeah, the Beyblade Research Center is in California, so I'll have to move there."

They fell silent. Both just sat staring out the window, sipping coffee. Kenny then noticed Tyson's outfit. "Tyson, are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, sure, I'm good." He said, scratching his nose and yawning. "Okay, not really. Hilary threw me out of the house again."

Kenny sighed. "Tyson, I don't really get why the two of you are staying together. I mean, you are two totally different persons, and no matter what you do, you always get into a fight."

"Yeah, I know." Tyson wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words to do so. He just shook his head, and smiled even wider than before. Kenny opened his briefcase, and placed a slim white envelope on the table between them

"What's that?" Tyson asked, picking it up. Kenny leaned his arms on the table, and looked his best friend straight in the eye.

"That's an invitation. You, your grandfather, Hilary, and I, are invited to California, for a reunion. Mr. Dickenson sent the letter."

Tyson opened the envelope, and read through the letter two times. They fell silent for a little while, so that Tyson could understand what he had just read. When he did, he broke into a huge grin, and yelled a loud "YEEEESSS! Oh my god, can you believe it! That's GREAT!" before he started dancing in the café hallway and Kenny had to drag him back to his seat. A couple of kids standing by the counter started crying "Daddy, I don't want whatever that man had!"

"Yeah, I know, that's great news," Kenny said, in a calm voice, so to make his friend take it a little easy. Tyson fell back on his chair.

"And everyone's coming? The White Tigers? The All Stars? The Blitzkrieg Boys? Wow, I wonder how they must have changed during all these years! You think we'll see Ray and Max again? Oh, and Kai! God, I have had so little time to think about them, I believe last time I talked to any of them was…" he looked like he was thinking hard. "…I don't remember."

"Yeah, it's been a while," Kenny said. "We're going to meet Max on the JFK Airport in New York, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow already?" Tyson asked, surprised. "Oh, damn, that means I've got to go over to Hilary in a little while and let her know."

"Don't worry; I'll take care of that. I'm headed that way, anyway." Kenny put the letter back in the briefcase. "This is going to be weird though."

"Tell me about it. Hey, Chief," Tyson leaned across the table, a hint of the old spark in his eyes. "Time to wipe the dust of old Dizzy! We're going back to the beginning!"

* * *

_Los Angeles, California, United States of America, March 16th, 19:54_

Max sat in the cafeteria of the Beyblade Research Center, sipping coffee and flipping through an old photo album. The white room was finally quiet after a long day of conversations. He sat staring at a particular picture for a long time; an old newspaper photo of the original Beybreakers. Tucked in between the pages, lay a couple of old letters from his former teammates. The last one was an e-mail from Tyson, sent almost five years ago.

_Hi buddy!_

_It's good to hear from you, man. Congratulations on your new job! How does it feel, working for your mother? I know I could never work for Gramps, but hey, he's a lunatic so I've got a better reason. I'm back together with Hilary, by the way. Yeah, I know we've had our ups and downs, but I really think this is it this time._

_Have you heard anything from Ray lately? He just told me he had some news, and now I can't get a hold of him at all. _

_Rock on!_

_Tyson_

Max couldn't help but laugh. Yes, he had replied to Tyson's e-mail, but he had never answered. He closed the album, leaned back on the chair, and stretched his aching arms. After emptying his coffee cup, and hanging his lab coat on its usual place, he turned off the lights in the cafeteria. He slammed the door shut, and left the dark room to its silence. The late evening sky was starting to darken, and as he locked the main doors, he looked up to gaze at the few stars already visible.

_I wonder how far it is to the nearest galaxy_, he thought, before exiting the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, here's chapter 3. Today was last day of school, and I'm now totally free! No school, no work, no training, no nothing. So now it's time to get a tan, go to the beach every day, and rock all the way. Have a nice vacation everyone! I know I will; considering Norway's version of summer consists of two months of sun and almost tropical warmth, while the other ten are drowned in either rain or snow. **

**Thanks to everyone who posted a review! It's nice to know you want to follow this story.**

**Just to make one thing clear:**** If you think Kai is acting a bit OOC, that it because he is now ten years older, and he's entered a career where he is surrounded by people every day, and as you read in chapter 1, actually had to talk to people. So, of course, he has changed. He's supposed to act like an adult. **

**Chapter 3**

Moscow Airport, March 17th – 10:45

The early morning sun filled the white waiting room of Gate 7. The air was cold from the thick layer of ice and snow covering his home land, making him feel light and awake. Kai was only one of the many passengers waiting for the gate doors to open, and finally allowing them to enter the plane. He had spent most of last night preparing mentally for the trip, and ended up ignoring the alarm clock. The result was that he felt horribly shabby looking. He wore a plain, light blue T-Shirt and jeans, a pair of warm winter boots, and a random jacket he had put on almost without even thinking about the season. He took a look at it, and was relieved to see that it at least was his own. Two bags were placed underneath his seat, both packet with clothes, and a couple of books.

He noticed his reflection in the window opposite the row of plastic chairs where he and his fellow passengers sat waiting. Squinting his eyes, he saw his hair standing up in all directions, reminding him of himself ten years ago. He tried flattening it with his hand, and managed to remove the trails of a past he was now headed back to. He could see nothing in his refection telling him, or anyone else, that there sat one of the world's greatest beybladers. He zipped his jacket open, and found the pendant of a necklace hanging around his neck. A bitchip, with the picture of a phoenix. Only short moments, like the warmth he had felt during the speech, told him that his beloved friend was still alive. She felt like a warm presence, just as important to his life as his own heartbeats. But he still remembered the times when he was able to see her.

He yawned and rubbed his eyes, leaving them sore and red. In one day, he would be taking two flights, and he knew the first would be nothing like the second. He was actually looking forward to spending nine hours in the quiet section, listening to his iPod, reading a book, or sleeping, waiting to land in a snowy New York. But then what? Oh yeah, three hours of listening to Tyson complaining about forgetting his toothbrush, or Viagra, or whatever. Kai couldn't help but chuckle.

He had to admit to himself that after so many years of not even hearing from his former team mates had made them strangers. He could already picture the tense first minutes of their meeting, and he was not looking forward to experiencing it in real life.

A woman wearing the black airport uniform, finally opened the gate doors, and smiled to the first passengers, asking for their boarding passes. Kai rose from the uncomfortable seat, and lifted up his bags.

"MR. HIWATARI!"

Kai sighed as he recognized the voice calling him by what he meant was his father's name. Several passengers turned to look as the brown haired girl came running towards gate 7, with such a speed, people had to jump out of the way not to be run down. This fine morning she was wearing a rather colorful coat, which functioned as a warning sign to all of human kind. She stopped right in front of him, bent down to lean on her knees, and gasped for her breath. Kai just looked at her casually, waiting for her to finish.

"Katya? You good?"

"Yeah… I'm... fine!"

She straightened up. Have you ever been up all night, keeping yourself awake drinking coffee and eating chocolate? She looked like that was exactly what she'd done.

"Phew!" she said, grinning at him. "Good morning, boss! You off flying, huh? That's awesome."

"Any particular reason you run your lungs out this early, Katya? Like you said, I have to go now, so if it's about that report, you can just mail it to me. Okay?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not me. It's Frank; he's wondering if he could have access to your office while you're gone. I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd drop by and ask."

Kai's eyes widened in fear, and he had to use some serious self control not to drop his bags, grip her shoulders, and shake her. "NO! Whatever you do, do NOT let that psycho into my office. I swear, that guy is mentally unstable."

"I thought that was why you hired him?"

"Partly," Kai replied, looking over his shoulder to make sure the gate was still open. It was, but it would not be for long. "Listen, Katya, you can call me at any time you want. Keep Frank out of my office… and Anya down the hall, too, I think she's got a crush on me. Who knows what horrors she could do to that poor room. I'll be back in two days; maybe less, I could always just take off."

Katya nodded, probably making mental notes on her instructions. They went quiet for a moment, as Kai waited for her to finish.

"Got it," she finally said. "You really think she's got a crush on you?"

"Goodbye, Katya," Kai said, smiling as he started to walk towards the gate. Katya followed him, constantly telling him what a slut Anya was. Kai gave his passport to the security lady, shifted his grip on the two bags, and turned to Katya one last time. "Listen," he said. "Thank you for helping me with this. I really appreciate what you're doing."

Katya looked very pleased with his words. "Don't you worry; I'll hold the fort while you're gone. You just have fun, okay? You deserve it."

"I'll do my best. By the way, how did you get past the security control?"

"Oh, I've got my methods," she said. Kai nodded, knowing there would be a message from the airport security lying on his desk by the time he returned. He smiled at her one last time, and then closed the door behind him; the last passenger to finally enter the plane.

The wind hit him like a cold shower, making him wish he had chosen a warmer jacket. A couple of funny looking vehicles passed him, probably removing the powdery snow from the plane track. He was wished welcome by a cute stewardess, and as he entered the plane, found himself in utter chaos. People were everywhere, either making sure their luggage was safely stored in the small room thingies under the plane ceiling, or running after their kids, trying to calm them down. Kai sighed and prepared himself mentally, before he started the dangerous journey through the plane. By the time he found his seat, he had been run into by five kids, kicked in the leg by some brat, kissed on the cheek by a fan that had obviously recognized him, and lost one of his bags in the chaos.

He fell back in his seat, and was pushed up against the wall by a huge lady who had sat down in the seat next to him. Kai was close to crying from anger when the belt sign finally lit, and the engines started. Three kids sat down in the seats behind him, and started playing some kind of quiz game. The plane suddenly started moving forward, driving down the seemingly endless track. Kai looked out of the little window, watching the distant trees of a random forest, and the airport crew running away from the tracks. The plane picked up speed, and then the front slowly turned upwards, into the air. Kai sat in the back of the plane, and so he was one of the last people to notice a bag flying down past the seats, and slamming into the toilet door right behind him. Kai swore out loud as he noticed it was his missing bag, causing the kids behind him to repeat his words with great enthusiasm.

As soon as the plane had straightened up, a stewardess came and picked up the bag for him, sending him a look that made even him shiver. The next four hours, Kai spent sleeping, and woke up in time to buy some lunch from the trolley. While pouring down his second cup of coffee, he found some paperwork to pass time.

Around noon, the crew members found it best to play a movie on the tiny screens. Kai was about to drift back to sleep, when he jumped awake by the kids in the back going: "MOVIE TIIIIIIIME!" When the pilot finally announced they would be landing in New York in half an hour, he felt like crying in relief.

When the plane landed, it was met by a thick cloud of snow, covering the windows, and making seeing rather difficult. Global warming was really becoming an issue when New York had more snow than Moscow, Kai though, while trying to follow the other passengers into the bus waiting to transport them to the airport. Despite the naps on the plane, he felt exhausted, and wanted nothing more than a soft bed and more coffee. But before he knew it, he once again entered the doors of a busy airport. Kai found his luggage and sat down by the Tax Free. He bought another cup of coffee from the nearest café, and sat down with the latest issue of National Geographic.

After about an hour, he'd had enough. He found one of his bags and looked through it till he found what he'd been looking for: a small pencil, a mirror, and some paint. If he was going back to his old self, he would do it thoroughly. He dipped the pencil in the blue paint and lifted the mirror so he could see his cheeks. When he was finished, the four, blue triangles were back on his face, just like old times. Kai kept staring at his reflection. In his bag, he found an old photo of the Bladebreakers, the one posted in the newspapers at the announcement of them winning the first tournament. He had found it among some old stuff on the attic, and now he couldn't take his eyes from it. He had changed a lot since then. He was not much taller, just a lot more fit. After going into business, he had cut his hair shorter, more professional looking, and his sense of clothing had changed dramatically. Black suit, white shirts and ties had become the most used items of his wardrobe.

He could feel people walking by him, see their shadows and hear their voices, but paid them no attention. For a long while he just sat there, looking out over the crowds. He'd been sitting like that for some time, watching a group of Italian tourists collecting their belongings, when his brain finally registered a familiar face. He snapped out of his half sleep, and focused on that one person, trying to remember where he had seen him before.

"…Kai?"

The man disappeared in the crowd, and Kai gave up trying to recognize him. Instead he turned to see who had called his name, and found himself looking at another familiar looking face. Though it had been ten long years since they had last met, Kai was surprised to see that Kenny "the Chief" had grown taller than him. He was wearing a black suit jacket and expensive looking jeans, with a white shirt barely visible under the thick red scarf wrapped around his neck. Kenny's glasses were long gone, and Kai could now clearly see his forest green eyes, now looking at him like he'd seen a long dead friend. That was probably true. Kai looked down at the old photograph for a brief second, and then up at his friend, afraid he was mistaken. But no, there was no doubt.

"Chief? Wow, I can't believe…" Kai's voice faded, as another ghost of his past entered his vision. Tyson Granger made his way through a crowd of German businessmen.

"Chief, why do I have to carry all of these bags? I'm exhausted, and hungry, I'm tired and thirsty. Why don't you just kill me now before we meet…" He trailed off when he saw Kai sitting on the chair behind Kenny. "…Kai" Tyson was about Kai's height, still just as thin and shabby looking as he'd always remembered him, and he had let his long black hair grow even longer, keeping it under control in his usual ponytail. Kai could not help but rise to his feet.

"Tyson," he said. "Long time." He felt like something inside him had turned upside down, like he had taken a long step back in time, and the last years had never really existed.

"It's great seeing you again Kai," Kenny said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Kai assured him. It was strange; he thought he had changed since they had last met, but now, meeting them again, he felt he was slowly going back to becoming his old self. He mentally kicked himself, and surprised them both by giving them a warm smile. "Just excellent. And how about you two? You have sure changed a great deal since I last saw you."

Kenny was just about to answer, when they heard a loud, girly scream coming from gate 18. Kai looked up and saw none other than Ray entering the airport. A crowd of Chinese tourists (all of them girls) had recognized him, and were now fighting to be the first to approach him. He managed to fight them off, and quickly headed in their direction. His happy grin grew wider by every step.

"Guys! I can't believe it's you!"

Of all of them, Ray was the one with least changes. His hair and looks were pretty much the same, he had only grown a lot taller, and his sense of clothing was just as changed as the others. Kai shook his hand, and tried to hold back a smile. They had all really grown up; still they remained the same, just like he remembered them. With Ray's arrival, Tyson starting talking about anything he could think of. Kenny went and bought them all something to drink, and they sat down next to Kai by the table, waiting for Max. Kai was reminded of the first weeks of the first tournament, when they had all tried to get to know each other. It was just like then, some awkward silences, but with a friendly tone. Tyson soon ordered some food, and sat talking in between bites. Four grownups, catching up on the old days. He had never thought it'd come to that.

Kai leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and tried his best to follow the conversation. Tyson did most of the talking; he started on a seemingly endless speech on how the beyblading world had changed.

"And have you seen the new team Mr. Dickenson found this year? They so totally suck!"

"No, they don't," Ray shot in. Tyson seemed shocked someone had actually managed to stop him. "They are pretty good. I mean they won that battle against the new All Stars, and I know for a fact that one of them is Emily's younger sister, and she trained her personally. I think they could bring on our legacy, if you know what I mean?"

"Don't say that, now I feel old!" Kenny said, laughing. The conversation soon moved on to their careers. Tyson told them all about how he had been offered DJ Jazzman's old job. Kai could easily imagine Tyson commentating during Beyblade matches, with his big mouth and all. Kenny explained how he was given a job at the very Research Center which they were heading to.

"I'm really looking forward to it," he said. "Dizzy has been kind of bored, you know. Working in a cubicle all day was not exactly what she had imagined."

"Talking about Dizzy, where is she?" Ray asked. Kenny pointed at one of his bags, and mouthed "I don't want to interrupt her right now; she's downloading some stuff for work." He paused, then: "But, how about you Kai? How are things going with work?"

Kai had followed the conversation with interest, and had waited for that question. "Ehm, well," he started, all eyes on him. "When I came back to Moscow, I witnessed against my grandfather, you all know that." They all nodded. "Then the Hiwatari Corporation was left without a leader, and I was first in line for the job."

Even Tyson shut his mouth. Ray frowned. "So, you took over your grandfather's job?"

Kai enjoyed their puzzled faces for a moment. "Yes, that's exactly what I did." He sipped his coffee before continuing. How many coffees had he bought that far? He felt like drowning in it. "There was a lot of changing to do. I tried finding the families of the children who had lived in the Abbey, and I sold most of Voltaire's unnecessary stuff, he got life time so whatever, and now I've changed the whole thing into a Banking Institution."

"So you….you're a bank manager?" Ray asked, his grin going wider. Kai nodded, and then surprised them all with a confident smile. Screw my old reputation, he thought. It's been ten years; things have changed. "Surprised?"

Kenny shook his head. "Impressed! Nice going, captain."

"Yeah, bank managers make big bucks," Tyson said, still staring at him like he was some total stranger. Kai had to strain himself not to snap his fingers in front of his face.

"There you guys are."

They all looked up, and right into two bright blue eyes, belonging to a certain familiar blonde. Max Tate looked exactly like before; he still had the same charismatic glimpse in his eyes, the same untidy blonde hair, and he still wore colors like bright yellow and light green. Tyson shrieked and embraced his old best friend in a tight hug. Kenny and Ray started laughing from the sight, and Kai watched as Max shook their hands. Then he turned to him.

"Kai?" Max asked. "Is that really you? You look so … so darn victorious." He looked at Tyson. "Have you two been in a fight already?"

"Hey!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," he said, chuckling at Tyson's childish pout. "I've been planning that one since my plane took off this morning."

"Talking about planes," Ray said. "When is it leaving?"

"In one hour," Max replied, looking at his wristwatch. "Come on guys! Let's check in our luggage." They all followed him to the security control, laughing at each other's jokes, acting like children all over again. Kai knew that much had changed in his life since that day when they had told each other goodbye at the airport in Tokyo. Promises they never held, memories they never forgot, friends they never lost. It was this thing about airports; they were like a place somewhere between bits of his life. Behind him, was the old days with his friends, while ahead of him, was the unknown future where anything could happen. And it all came to a pause at any airport. That was where it all ended, but like a phoenix, it also brought a new beginning. _Come on Kai_, he thought. _You know you're going to love this._

As the five boys walked out the gate to enter the plane, five bitchips lit up and warmed their masters. Drigger in Ray's pocket, Draciel inside Max's old locket, Dizzie somewhere in Kenny's bag, Dragoon in Tyson's beyblade, and Dranzer held safe in Kai's palm.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the delay, folks! This was a tricky chapter.**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

_Somewhere over the US, March 17th – 21:36_

When Mr. Dickenson had told them, through each their letter that they would travel to California by plane he had forgotten to mention one, tiny little thing:

"A private jet!" Tyson yelled, jumping up and down in his seat. "This is just too awesome!"

"Dude, you're 25 years old, stop acting like a child," Kai snapped at him. He had now spent four long hours in the company of two dangerous children with constant sugar high. Of course Max had to bring chocolate from the Tax Free store! Kai sighed and closed his eyes. Outside the tiny windows, he could see nothing but the pitch black midnight sky. The sound of engines had become as natural to him as his own thoughts, and he felt sure that he would spend the rest of his life getting used to silence. The jet had room for ten people, but besides the five boys, the only passengers were the two pilots flying the jet.

Kenny had found Dizzy hidden between piles of clothes inside his bag. The old, primitive laptop was gone, and in its place Kenny had spent some serious money on a brand new Apple. Kai wasn't even sure that model was on the market yet. Ray had spent the whole flight sleeping. They thought he was exhausted from the long flight from China, and none of them really had the guts to wake him. He sat in the seat opposite Kai, leaning his cheek on the window, his eyes closed. Max and Tyson sat alone in the back of the jet, mostly talking, but still messing around like in the old days.

"You should get some sleep, Kai," Kenny said. He sat a couple of seats to his right. Kai didn't reply; he just nodded. Yet, half an hour later he still sat staring into nothing, just like before. Kenny unbuckled his seatbelt, and sat down next to him. Kai was at that time drifting between sleep and consciousness, but snapped awake when Kenny opened Dizzy, the electrical light almost blinding both of them.

"Hey, look at this," Kenny whispered, not to wake Ray, who still slept peacefully.

"How?"

Kenny noticed Kai had to squint his eyes, and tuned the light down slightly with a tiny button on the side of the laptop. "Sorry, Kai. Here it is," He used the cursor to open a new internet tab, typing in an unfamiliar address. He pointed at the new web page, and Kai had to lean closer to see the writing.

"What's this?"

"It's a GPS," Kenny said, with a grin. "According to Dizzy, we should be somewhere over the Rocky Mountains by now."

"And you know I'm always right" The mechanical voice of Kenny's bitbeast Dizzy said though the laptop speakers. Kai had almost forgotten how annoying she could be, and wanted to ignore the voice like he had always done before, but found he couldn't.

"Oh, you mean like that time you upgraded my beyblade and it ended up destroying Tyson's garden?"

"… That was a onetime incident!"

"Ray had to go to hospital!"

"Will you two please be quiet?" Kenny snapped at both of them, nodding towards Ray, who had started turning in his sleep. Kai snorted and frowned at the stupid machine.

"How do you see anything anyway?" he asked. Dizzy made a noise with her computer engine, letting him know she was not at all pleased with the question.

"How rude! You don't hear me ask you humans how you see, hear or….reproduce!"

Kenny blushed and tuned down the volume.

"Oh, please!" Kai replied. "Computer plus internet equals porn! You know everything about the act."

"Guys, can you please change the subject?" Kenny asked, his voice becoming more and more awkward.

Kai smiled victoriously, gave a short, "Hn," and leaned back to continue ignoring her. Ten minutes later, he could no longer hear either Tyson or Max, and came to the conclusion they had both gone to sleep. He started looking forward to sleeping in a hotel bed, with clean sheets and a comfortable mattress. Kenny soon started typing on his computer, and the sound made Kai feel sleepy and tired.

He drifted off into a dreamless sleep, and when he was shaken awake by Tyson, it felt like he'd been gone for only a couple of minutes. He grunted and told Tyson to go fuck himself, but he could still hear his voice coming from somewhere. It was like being under water. He felt so warm and his whole body ached from lack of sleep, he did not care he was sitting in an uncomfortable airplane seat; all he wanted to was to get some rest. But his mind suddenly focused on the voices coming from someplace far away. And the more he listened to them, the clearer they became, and soon he could make out a couple of words.

"…you don't think that….. something wrong ….. go check on ….. not waking up."

Kai had to force his eyes open, and while they adjusted to the sharp light, he sat up, squinting his eyes. A couple of things had changed since he fell asleep. Tyson and Max were now sitting with them, Ray was finally awake, and Kenny was no longer typing on his laptop. All of them turned to him as they realized he was awake.

"What the hell are guys doing?" Kai asked, his voice hoarse from lack of use. He yawned, while covering his mouth with his hand. "Aaaaaaare we there already?"

Kenny shook his head, his eyes wide and worried. "No. Kai, we think something's wrong."

Kai had not realized the tense mood, but from Kenny's words, he frowned and looked at the four others. They all nodded in agreement. Kai suddenly felt a shiver run through the jet, enough to make Tyson almost fall out of his seat.

"Turbulence?" Max asked.

"Don't think so," Ray answered. He rose from his seat and made his way to the front of the jet, where they could see the door leading to the flight deck. Kai soon followed, and the two boys hesitated outside the door for a little while. Ray was the one who knocked.

"Hallo? Is everything all right?" he asked, raising his voice so that the pilots would hear him. Kai could see Tyson, Max and Kenny shift uncomfortably in their seats, all of them trying to listen for a reply. They heard nothing.

Suddenly they heard a loud thump, and the jet made a sharp turn to the left. Max lost his balance and fell on Kenny, who had to drop Dizzy in order to catch him. The laptop landed on the floor and slowly started sliding towards Ray and Kai. Ray picked it up.

"Are… are we landing?"

"What? Hell no!" Kenny said. "The GPS still shoved we were above the Rockies only five minutes ago!"

The jet made another sharp turn, this time downwards. Kai and Ray were thrown towards the door. He pushed Ray aside, and opened the door with a jerk. Inside, the steering panel was lit in hundred different colors, marking the positions of different controls and instruments. It felt like an ironclad hand gripped around his heart, and he couldn't help but gasp in shock. The two pilots were nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell-!" Kai suddenly felt a sharp pain in his hand, as something heavy slammed into it, making him let go of the doorframe. Ray tried reaching for him, but missed. Kai fell into the smaller room, and slammed into the pilot's empty chair. He could feel his heart race as he eyed the control panel. The plane was still going smoothly, but it wouldn't for long.

"Kai!"

All of the others were in the doorway. Kai held his breath, trying to think. He reached for the steering wheel, but stopped mid way. What was he thinking? What the…

"HELL!" he shouted, making Kenny swallow nervously. Suddenly, they heard a loud noise coming from somewhere behind them. They all froze, and just waited for something to happen. Anything. It felt like hours.

"I don't mean to cause any panic," Tyson whispered, despair in his voice. "But I think we just lost one of the engines." Max sunk down into the seat he'd been clinging to for dear life. Kai searched the control panel with his eyes, noticing the new red lamp that lit up in warning, telling them one of the three engines had broken down. Seconds later, he found what he'd been looking for.

"And we're out of gas."

And that's when it happened. The jet tilted hard to the left, the strong wind gripped its wings and crushed the no longer working jets. The lights went out, only to be replaced by hundreds of red alarms screaming at them to do something. Kai was once again thrown forward, over the control panel and into the front window. Max and Tyson disappeared from sight, while Kenny and Ray tumbled into the cockpit, almost hitting Kai. His ears were filled with the raging wind, screaming alarms, and the panicked voices of his team mates. He opened his eyes, and managed to lift himself up. He felt the cold glass on his skin, and saw clouds and strong wind hitting the front of the jet.

"GET IN THE BACK!" he yelled at Ray and Kenny, who were both clinging to the two chairs. He didn't think they'd heard him, and it took him two more tries before they reacted. "GET IN THE BACK OF THE FUCKING PLANE!"

He grabbed Kenny's arm, and pulled him towards the door. They had to step on the chairs, and grip the doorframes to lift themselves into the passenger deck, which had now become a second floor on the diving jet. Max and Tyson were already in each of their seats, as dozens of oxygen masks automatically fell out of the small luggage apartments over their heads.

"KAI, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" Ray shouted at him, after he was placed safely in his seat. Kai gave him no notice, but climbed down the row of chairs, through the open cockpit door, and jumped onto the back of the second pilot's chair. He squinted his eyes to see through the window, but saw nothing but darkness. He got in the seat of the first pilot, and grabbed the steering wheel, jerking it upwards like he'd seen in the movies. The jet made no reaction to his command. The clouds suddenly disappeared, and in a horrible moment he saw the world underneath.

The high mountains and rocks of the Rocky Mountains were covered in heavy snow. The rocky landscape seemed endless, and coming towards them like in the speed of light. Kai felt himself stop breathing, his stomach made a sickening twirl, and his head suddenly felt like the inside of a balloon. In a couple of seconds, he just sat there, staring, like it was too horrible to look away. The panicked scream of one of his team mates snapped him out of his trance. Once again he jerked at the steering wheel, while his eyes desperately searched for other options. But the controls had no labels describing their use. Kai yelped in pain as the air pressure changed, and it was like his eardrums exploded, leaving him dizzy and his eyes unfocused. His team mates yelled at him to return to the passenger deck, but he paid them no notice.

He saw the nearest mountain top close in on them. He threw himself to the right, and hit the second pilot's steering wheel with his foot. In a moment of reaction, the jet turned slightly to the right, out of range of the mountain top. "HAH!" Kai yelled in surprise, and changed seats. A mist formed around the jet, making it impossible to see more than what was right in front of the plane. Kai jerked the steering wheel one more time.

Suddenly, the mist disappeared. Kai gasped, and tried getting out of the seat, but already then, he knew he'd never make it in time. As the front window was crushed into thousands of pieces by the ground, Kai felt a sudden warmth in his pocket. He closed his eyes, making the world slightly darker, before it went completely black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi, everyone! Once again, I'm so sorry I left this story for a while. I don't know, I kind of lost the inspiration to continue. But that's all over now! Oh, and about the last chapter's cliffhanger? I just couldn't resist, sorry. Also, English is not my first language, and I know I have a lot of spelling and grammar mistakes. I'm learning, but please bear with me, I'm doing my best. If you see any particular words I keep spelling wrong, please point them out, will you? Anyway, enjoy the chapter! As always, reviews are very much appreciated.**

**Chapter 5**

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, US, March 18th –_ **04:32**

"Ha! There you are!"

Dimitri Barsukov scowled at the man standing in front of him. His name was Erik Aasgaard, and as always, he met his colleague with a wide grin on his face. Dimitri fought to rid himself of the now useless parachute he had tangled himself into when he landed. Erik stood watching him, his own parachute already packed away.

"So, what now?" Erik asked. Dimitri sighed and threw a piece of paper at him. He opened it and studied the different lines and markings on the map. "According to my GPS, we should be close to one of the hunter's cabins. It could be… I don't know, 4 kilometers?"

"Well, then I suggest you start walking," Dimitri said. He put on his backpack, and walked past his fellow pilot. Erik nodded, and followed.

"I think it went really well-"

"Be quiet."

"Oh, come on! We finished our assignment! We can go home!" The snow reached both of them to their knees, and Erik bent down and came up with a snowball in his hands. It hit Dimitri in the back of his head.

"Exactly!" he yelled as he turned around in anger. "This was my very last mission for that inbred, ruthless bastard! When I get home, I'm going to pack my things and move OUT of Moscow."

"I have full understanding for you there, buddy," Erik said. "That place is colder than the devils freezer." He put the map in his pocket, and pointed towards the west. "That way."

"No, wait, stop for second," Dimitri said. Erik leaned his back against the nearest tree trunk and crossed his arms over his chest. Erik was eight years younger than Dimitri, and still in learning as a second pilot. His ash blonde hair was covered in melting snow, his deep blue eyes fixed on his colleague. In Dimitri's eyes, he was still a kid, and he would never tolerate being pushed by someone without even a hint of experience, both in life and in flying.

"Don't take this too lightly," he said, trying to calm himself. "If I'm right, we have just killed five people."

"We were just following orders-"

"This has nothing to do about orders! Do you even know _why_ we did it? What the hell was the purpose of their deaths? They were just kids!"

"Isn't it a little too late to grow a conscience?"

Dimitri closed the distance between them and pointed his finger up in front of his face. "Listen here, you little smartass," he said. "I did this for one purpose and one purpose only: to be allowed to go home, and see my little daughter again. For that, I would kill you, BURY you, and then dig you up and KILL you again! Is that understood?" He moved slowly away from Erik, and started walking down the white hill. "You Scandinavians are so full of shit," he said to no one in particular.

"We are both full of shit, Dimitri!" Erik called after him, and started fighting his way through the snow. Every time his boots were lifted from the ground, cascades of white waves were flung aside. "That's why he chose us to do this together!"

They had landed between two smaller peaks, both covered in tall, probably ancient mountain trees. If not for the satellite GPS they would have no chance of making it to the cabin before sunrise. Erik was more than used to snow and mountains, but even he got tired of running through the harsh landscape. Dimitri was always three feet ahead, and kept his distance so that he could get time to think.

"Hei, Dimitri," Erik said, after almost falling over an invisible branch hidden somewhere under the snow. "When we finally reach the cabin, how long are we going to stay?"

"As long as it takes for them to come and pick us up."

"Figured," Erik mumbled, and ran past Dimitri, throwing another snowball at him. Dimitri shot him a venomous look.

"I'm warning you, Aasgaard! If you don't-" He was cut off by Erik, who turned around and shushed at him. Dimitri felt anger swell up inside him, and was just about to give the little brat a piece of his mind, but something caught his attention. A faint noise was heard from somewhere far behind them. He had a hard time describing it. The wind mixed with it, making it hard to hear. Erik frowned, and looked at Dimitri, puzzled.

"Did you hear that?"

"I'm pretty sure I did." Dimitri turned to look back, into the same direction they'd just come.

"Please. For the love of God, don't tell me we're going back," Erik pleaded, thinking of the warm, cozy cabin just waiting for him a couple of kilometers away. Dimitri shook his head, but was still concentrated on whatever was behind them.

"Whatever made that sound was a living creature, of that I'm sure," Dimitri said. "But it could as well have been a grizzly."

"A Grizzly?" Erik asked; his face lit up. "My dad used to take me bear hunting! We've got guns, why can't we-?"

"Shut up!" Dimitri snapped, holding his hand up. Once again, the haunting sound echoed through the peaks. "Okay, that's no grizzly." Erik squint his eyes to see the elder man through the dark. The distant horizon was now tinted with lighter blue and gold, but they still had problems seeing anything but the most general silhouettes.

"It can't be…" Dimitri whispered.

"What can't be?" Erik walked closer to him, his uniform pants now soaked in melted snow.

"Erik… I think one of them survived."

Erik shook his head, chuckling. "Nei. That's impossible. No one can survive a plane crash from that high. Come on, it was probably just an animal. Or the wind! Or maybe Lars Monsen is messing with us, you never know!*"

"We have to go back."

"WHAT? You cannot be serious!" Erik shouted after him, as he started walking back towards where they'd come. He soon disappeared in the dark, and Erik was left battling between himself whether or not he should follow. "And what is he going to do when he finds them?" He whispered to himself. "Kill them?" He laughed out loud. "Right, like there is any NEED TOO!" he yelled after Dimitri. "THE FUCKING COLD WILL FINISH THEM! YOU HEAR ME DIM-" He interrupted himself with a shrug and a sigh. "Idiot." But only seconds later, he started following in his own footsteps, back to where they'd come.

* * *

_ Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, US, March 18th – _**04:43**

Ray felt himself being pushed in different directions, as strangers passed by him, close enough to make contact. His vision slowly cleared, and he saw himself standing in a crowd of people. All of them seemed to have a destination, yet nothing existed but them, and an empty world of white. Slowly, shapes came into focus, like they were lines someone drew on a piece of paper. The shapes became objects, and the objects came to life. Not only a minute after he opened his eyes, was Ray standing in the busy main road of a strange airport. Voices and everyday sounds came in tune, and colors seemed painted slowly onto the black and white world.

Ray moved out of the way of the crowd, and watched them as they passed by. He knew that all those faces could not be real. Yet, one of them stood out.

"Maria," he whispered. Ray moved into the crowd, pushed people aside, and reached out to where he had seen her. But she moved further away, her face disappearing in the crowd. Ray tried fighting his way through, tried to follow, but there were just too many people.

"Maria…"

Ray gasped and opened his eyes. His head fell back towards the seat, his eyes still wide open. He felt his heart pound like it wanted to tear his chest apart, and his breath came out in short gasps for highly needed air. His body ached, and his skin was so cold. Something yellow caught his attention, and he lifted his head to see the oxygen mask hanging in front of his face. He sat in silence for a little while, trying to focus.

Ray tried moving, but found his legs were stuck underneath what must have been the seat in front of his. It was bent over his own, like crushed backwards, shielding him from the cold breeze sending snow into the passenger deck. He tried pushing the seat upwards, but found he was way too weak for such right now. He leaned down to examine his legs. They seemed just fine, and Ray sighed in relief when he managed to move them slightly. He tried pulling them out from underneath the seat, but soon gave up, panting from exhaustion. Not before he slipped off his shoes, was he able to pull his feet out. Barefoot, he crawled out from the seats and landed in a pile on the floor. He groaned, his head spinning, and lifted his head to examine his surroundings.

It was still dark. He saw nothing but the few closest seats on each side, and the floor disappearing somewhere up front. He looked down, and saw his hands covered in a thin layer of snow. He coughed and spat at the floor, groaning in pain as he noticed blood dripping from his lips. He closed his eyes, and started shaking from unshed tears.

"Tyson!" he yelled, his voice hoarse, and barely audible. He coughed again, and this time broke down in tears. His legs hurt so much he felt like they'd been tore apart. "Max!" No one answered. With a yelp of pain, he sat up, leaning his back towards the one row of chairs. Slowly, he began examine his legs closer. Deep gashes covered the bottom half of his legs, fresh blood painting his jeans red.

"God…" he whispered. He looked around for anything to use to stop the bleeding, but found nothing. "Kenny! ... Kai!" The tears on his cheeks slowly froze. His hands were blue from the cold. "Maria…"

"Ray…?"

He froze, listening for the voice. "Anyone there?" he asked. He could feel someone close by, moving.

"Thank God. Are you okay?" Ray recognized Tyson's voice, and sighed in relief. He saw Tyson moving towards him, dragging himself by his right arm. His hair was wet from the snow, his eyes squinting in the dark. Soon they lay face to face. Ray noticed a deep cut on Tyson's left shoulder, and fresh blood ran down his temple. His face was dirty beyond recognition.

"Are you hurt?" Ray asked. Tyson nodded.

"My chest hurts," he said. "And my head too. Are you alright?"

"No. My legs got stuck underneath the seat in front of mine. It doesn't look good." He took a second to just look at his friend. "Have you seen any of the others?"

Tyson shook his head. "Max sat right in front of me, I'm sure of it. But I didn't see him. Can you walk?" Ray tried moving his legs one more time, but bolts of pain shot up his back, bad enough for him to scream out in despair.

"Stop, Ray!" Tyson said. "Don't move, please. I'll go find them, don't worry." Tyson tried pulling himself up by his arms, and finally found himself standing up right in the jet. "You just stay here, okay?"

"Tyson," Ray whispered.

"Yes, Ray?"

"How do we know how long we've been like this? The jet…"

"What about the jet?"

"If there is any electricity left in the batteries, a spark might react with the fuel left in the tanks."

Tyson felt himself leaning on the armrest of the nearest chair, still staring at where he knew Ray still lay in the dark. "You mean it can explode? I thought that only happened in movies…" he whispered.

"Movies are based on reality, Tyson," Ray replied.

Tyson hesitated for a moment. He felt his shoulder ache when he moved it, and tugged his arm tightly to his chest. He licked his dry lips, and felt the taste of blood. Slowly, he made his way down the passenger deck, feeling his way with his right hand. His feet hit something hard on the floor. Tyson bent down to feel through the dark, and his eyes widened in surprise as his hand met the familiar feeling of smooth plastic. Dizzy was covered in snow, and the machine seemed dead to his touch. Tyson lifted it from the floor, and placed it in the nearest seat.

"Max? Kenny? Can you hear me?" he whispered. Suddenly, he stopped. Somewhere in the dark in front of him, he felt a presence, the heat of a human being. Whoever it was stood right in front of him, but hidden in the dark. Tyson swallowed, and tried to calm his panting.

"You are okay?" Kenny asked. Tyson jumped in surprise as his friend lay a warm hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, feeling a sharp pain shoot up his neck.

"I'm sorry, Tyson," Kenny said. Tyson nodded, and then remembered Kenny was unable to see him.

"Its okay. Are you hurt, buddy?"

"Not badly. I was thrown forward by the impact, and I hit my head, but nothing worse."

"That's great. Keep walking, and you'll find Ray. If you can, find a way out."

"What about you?"

"I'll try to find Max and…"

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Just… wait with Ray. He's hurt."

Tyson felt Kenny walk past him. He waited till he could hear Kenny talking to Ray, and then reached out his right hand to search for Max. Come on, he thought. Come on…

His hand suddenly hit the cockpit door. It had been slammed shut. "Max?" he whispered. "Max, are you here?" He continued walking, his hand still touching the wall. A cold breeze hit him from somewhere up front. His lungs burned with every breath of air, making his chest hurt even more. Tyson stopped right in front of a hole the size of a door, ripped open on the side of the plane. Max was nowhere to be seen.

Tyson stood in front of the hole for a long while, just feeling the cold air against his skin. Outside, the sky was pitch black, the world only lit by the illuminating light of the snow covered ground. In the distance, the only thing visible was the dark silhouettes of hundreds of mountain peaks. The wind blew thousands of snowflakes into the already freezing plane. The mere thought of stepping outside, sent shivers down Tyson's spine.

"I don't know what to do here," he whispered. "Max… Where did you go?" He was only met by silence, and the howling wind. He heard a sudden movement behind him, and recognized the voice of Kenny.

"Tyson… Have you found-" He trailed off. Tyson lifted his right hand to massage his temples, just to bring some relief to his aching head.

"No. I haven't."

Kenny nodded in silence. "We'll find him, Ty. But right now we have to get Ray out of here. We should try finding our luggage, and anything left in here that might come in handy. We need to leave. Now."

"And go where?" Tyson asked, turning around, away from the gaping hole.

Kenny sighed. "Build a cave, probably. If we can make it until tomorrow, we should have a fairly good chance. This jet," he pointed into the air. "Was Mr. Dickinson's private jet. I am sure that he made a couple of precautions, just in case anything was to happen to it."

"And the airport in California made contact with us the whole time, I'm sure of it," Tyson remembered. Kenny nodded in agreement.

"Okay, here is what we do," Kenny said. "I'll go outside and see if I can find a good place to start digging. You stay here with Ray, okay? I found something to use as a bandage for his wounds, but they won't last long. Just talk to him, and make sure he doesn't fall asleep. And see if you can find a couple of flashlights and a first aid kit. There has got to be something in case of situations like these."

"Sure, I'll see to Ray. But why can't Kai do the rest? Where is he anywh-" Tyson trailed off and they remained in silence. Even through the dark, he could see Kenny's eyes widen in fear.

"Oh, dear lord, no," Kenny whispered. Suddenly he was gone from sight, and Tyson could hear the sound of footsteps disappear deeper into the plane wreck. Tyson followed and felt his way with his hand. He stopped next to Kenny, who was standing right outside the door leading to the flight deck. Kenny started banging on the closed door. "KAI!" he called. No answer. Tyson heard him searching for the handle, and seconds later, the door opened.

"Tyson, get back and find Ray. Don't let him fall asleep, you hear me?"

"Y-yeah," Tyson replied, and retreated from the door. Kenny pushed the door wide open, and stepped inside. The flight deck was a mess. The front window was shattered into million pieces, the control panel crushed by the heavy wave of snow that had hit the front window when the jet had hit the ground. Kenny quickly scanned his surroundings, but saw no trails of his team mate. Without thinking, he ran to the front and started digging away snow with his bare hands.

"Come on!" he mumbled to himself. He dug till his hands were sore and numb, and then quickly hid them inside his jacket to get them warm. Salt tears silently run down his cheeks, both of physical and mental pain. That was when he saw a hint of blue from the corner of his eye. With his hands hidden safely inside his jacket, he climbed through the shattered front window, and out of the plane.

In the snow lay his team captain, motionless. Kenny stumbled in the snow, fought his way through, and finally reached his friend. "Kai," he whispered. He fell to his knees beside him, and used his already freezing hands to feel for a pulse. Two panicked seconds later, he sighed in relief, and rose to his feet. Slowly, not to hurt him further, he lifted Kai up in his arms, surprised by his light weight. It took him more than ten minutes getting back to the plane, as he dropped Kai several times, and his muscles ached. Finally, he reached the front of the plane, and stepped on the metal floor. The snow under his boots made the floor slippery, and he had to reach for the wall to gain his balance. He lay Kai on the floor, and quickly covered him with his jacket. At once he felt his own body react to the cold. He felt numb, and his hands almost lifeless. Still, he used them to rub Kai's neck and arms, hoping to bring some warmth to his skin.

"Kenny…? Are you in here?"

Kenny turned to see Ray standing in the doorway. "What the hell are you doing!" Kenny said. "You shouldn't be walking!"

"I know, but I was cold."

"Where is Tyson?"

"Is he okay?" Ray stared at Kai with wide eyes.

"No, he's not. Ray, where is Tyson?"

"He said something about digging a cave."

"Good," Kenny said. "Ray, come here. Take this," he gave him his jacket. "Keep him warm. It might take a while before I get back, but I'll be as fast as I possibly can, okay?"

"Okay."

Kenny ran out the door, trying to ignore how cold he was. After raving around in the dark for a little while, he found the toilet and a small room in the back. The room was small, and the walls were covered in shelves. He reached out to the nearest shelf, and searched for anything that might help them. When he came back onto the passenger deck, he was carrying on one flashlight, three blankets, a first aid kit, and seven thick jackets. He found the hole Tyson had shown him, and ran outside. The very first thing he noticed was a trail of footprints leading into the dark. He followed, and was relieved that he didn't have to struggle too much this time. After almost three minutes, he heard panting, and soon he saw Tyson's silhouette. Tyson had twinned a piece of fabric around his hands, and was almost half way in digging a hopefully useful cave.

"How is it going?" Kenny yelled through the howling wind. Tyson jumped in surprise, but quickly recognized him.

"Just fine! See if you can find branches to use for the floor!"

"On it!" Kenny replied. Tyson nodded, and kept digging. His muscles felt like they were going to give in at any moment, but at least he was warm. While he worked, he felt the familiar warmth from Dragoon, keeping him going. "It's going to be okay, Dragoon," Tyson said. "We've been through worse, right? …. Or not."

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, US, March 18th –_ **04:57**

It was like waking up on a speeding train. You suddenly wish you could just drift back to sleep, and never hear all of the annoying noises of the real world. Max groaned and lifted his head to see where he was. He was alone, and surrounded by snow as far as his eyes could see. He felt like the black night sky would fall down on him, crushing him. His hands were blue from cold, and he tucked his jacket tighter around himself to keep the cold out. He suddenly threw his head back and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"TYSOOON!" His voice was so hoarse, he was sure he sounded like some kind of pained animal. He sunk back on his knees, hugging himself tightly. Once more, he called out for one of his friends. But no one answered. He was alone.

* * *

**My fingers hurt like hell! I hope you are satisfied, all of you who asked me for a quick update. I'll be going for a shot trip, so I'm back in a few days. But that means there won't be any more chapters in a little while. I think I can promise you a new chapter before Sunday, though. But until then, R&R.**

_*Lars Monsen is a Norwegian adventurer and explorer. He was the first to cross Canada and Norway by foot, among other voyages. It is said, just for fun, that echoes don't really exist; it's just Lars Monsen messing with you._


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi, everyone. Thank you so much for your reviews, it's nice coming home to some good comments ;D But, then again, you all know that. Oh, and just a tip: pay close attention to the dates and times of each part of the chapters. Sometimes I go a little back and forth in time, just to include everything. If it is confusing, just ask anything you want. The plane crashed around nine in the evening, and the boys were unconcious for hours. And a lot happened during those hours.**

**Tyson kinomiya granger:** Thank you so much! I kinda see it as an action movie myself, so I'm very glad you do too.

**Mr. Frank:** God, I love your reviews. You notice good things that I don't even seen myself. You will learn more about Dimitri and Erik, and their pasts, I can promise you that.

**HeartlessLittle Hamster:** Welcome :) Hope you keep reading.

**Sanaa:** Yes, I know. There will be more Hilary. Personally, I'm not too good with pairings, but I think Tyson and Hilary are a bit meant to be, because they seem equally strong willed.

**Chapter 6**

* * *

_The Beyblade Research Centre, California, United States – March 17th, 23:46_

Stanley Dickenson was a man of great importance within the beyblading world. The last couple of years he had begun to feel the years catching up on him, and many a doctor had advised him to take the billions he had and leave the business for good. Still, the aging man paid them no attention, and that was one reason why he, late at night, found himself sitting in front of a laptop in his improvised office in a dark hotel room. The screen light cast bluish shadows across the walls, and left the four corners of the room in utter darkness. Dickenson himself had not changed much the past ten years. Apparently he was the kind of man who stayed almost the same when everything else seemed to change dramatically.

His desk was a mess. It was impossible to see the wood underneath all the files and paperwork, and several cups of coffee covered most of the area. It was three months earlier that he had just casually seen through an old photo album, and remembered the glory days of his career. But to host a reunion for the world's top beyblading teams had cost him more than he had first expected. And so followed endless nights of zero sleep, and paperwork piling up on his desk.

It was around midnight he noticed he lacked enough coffee to last through the night. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, closing the laptop and made his way down to where he thought the kitchen would be. The hotel was part of the Beyblade Research Centre, and would be host for the workers and doctors working at the Centre when it was finished.

It was a warm night in California. As Mr. Dickenson passed the beautifully decorated windows of the main hall, he could see no wind bending the branches of the many palm trees surrounding the Centre. The building itself was a huge construction of offices, the hotel, laboratories for research, and a huge beydish area for testing. All in all, it was plenty of room to get lost in. He followed whatever inner voice told him to turn left by the reception, and down the hallway leading to the more worker part of the building.

Soon, he heard voices, and followed them as best he could. The typical office ceiling lamps were still lit in this part, which made him a lot more comfortable he was headed in the right direction. Suddenly he recognized some of the voices. He smiled and gave a small laugh as the memories came back. He pushed open a plain white door at the end of the corridor, and entered a room so bright; he had to cover his eyes. The walls were painted in white, and the light from a chandelier hanging over a huge dining table was reflected in the almost too clean kitchen equipments. The walls were almost hidden in cupboards, which were filled with hundreds of coffee cups of all sizes and colors. In other words: heaven was near.

Around the table sat five people, each of them with a cup in their hands. They all looked up when he entered. He spent a couple of seconds trying to recognize them all, and was for a moment sure that they were workers. But not for long. Robert Jurgen, the captain of the former European team, The Majestics, was the first to rise from his seat.

"Mr. Dickenson," he said, a wide grin on his face. "It's been a while." Robert had not changed much in appearance since he last met him. Johnny McGregor, who sat next to him, had grown almost as tall as his captain, and he had cut his hair and removed the purple headband. Enrique Giancarlo was so changed in facial features; Mr. Dickenson had a hard time remembering who he was at all. And Oliver now had that confident expression you often find in experienced businessmen. The four boys had grown up to be a lot like Mr. Dickenson could remember their fathers; wealthy and successful. They were all wearing t-shirts and baggy pants, and by the looks of it, they had just arrived.

"Indeed it has, Robert," Mr. Dickenson replied. "And I am glad to see you all again." He couldn't help but feel proud seeing them like this. It had been so long, and they had gone from boys to grown men in a blink of an eye.

"It's good seeing you too Mr. Dickenson," Oliver said. "You want to join us?"

"Certainly, Oliver. But first I am in desperate need for a cup of coffee."

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Enrique chuckled, obviously drunk on coffee. Oliver shoved him in the side with his elbow, and whispered an irritated: "Get yourself together, man." Mr. Dickenson paid them no attention, and found himself a cup. He sat down by the dining table, next to Johnny, and blew carefully on the warm coffee.

"So, boys," he began. "I am excited to hear how things have turned out for you. Please, do tell." Mr. Dickenson looked at them in turn and sipped his coffee. Oliver was the one to speak up.

"Well," he started. "I am now co owner of my dad's hotel business, and it's going pretty well this far. Enrique," he shot his friend a death glare, after he interrupted him with a loud snore. He had fallen asleep on Robert's shoulder. "who is now starting on his beauty sleep, inherited his parents estates after his mother died five years ago, and I believe he is currently working as a sales director for Lamborghini Motors."

"Impressive," Mr. Dickenson commented.

"Yeah, well," Oliver continued. He yawned and poured himself another cup of what smelled like hot chocolate. "Johnny here," he nodded towards his friend. "Is doing pretty well as a movie producer, and Robert has published several bestselling novels, and is currently working on another grand masterpiece, isn't that right, Rob?"

"We'll see where it goes," Robert replied, only paying half attention, while trying to push Enrique away. Mr. Dickenson emptied his cup and leaned back in his chair.

"Nice going, all of you. So, are any of you married yet?"

"I have a fiancée," Robert said. "Her name is Angelique, and we are to be married in-" he then interrupted himself by yelling "DUDE, what the hell!" He pushed Enrique away, and found a paper towel to use drying off some drool on his shoulder. "Okay, I really think you should go to bed now, Enrique. That idiot is still on Italy-time."

"Oh, and about Angelique; she is my elder sister," Oliver said, visibly proud. Mr. Dickenson congratulated them both on the upcoming wedding. He soon forgot everything about paperwork, and would have stayed in the kitchen all night, but he was then interrupted by the cell phone chiming in his pocket. He excused himself, and left the table to speak in private. In the mean time, Robert and Johnny tried dragging Enrique to his feet, to get him to bed. After a couple of tries, Oliver soon had to help them dragging him out of the room. Mr. Dickenson waved them goodnight, and then lifted the phone to his ear.

"Stanley Dickinson here."

"Ah, yes this is Daniel Grey, we spoke earlier this morning."

"… Oh, yes, I remember!"

"I don't really know how to tell you this, Mr. Dickenson, but we think something is wrong with one of the flights that took off from the JFK Airport this afternoon."

"What do you mean?"

"We kept contact with the pilots for almost half of the flight, but then we lost them."

"Maybe they had some technical problems," Mr. Dickenson said. He looked at the wristwatch on his left arm, and frowned. "I am sure they should all have arrived by now. Except the flight from Russia, they were running a bit late, I think."

"Mr. Dickenson, we have been given no confirmation that this flight has landed in California."

Mr. Dickenson stood in silence for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out anything to say. He used his free hand to loosen his tie. "Which flight?" he finally asked.

"Flight 307, sir. Carrying Tyson Granger, Ray Kon, Max Tate, Kai Hiw-"

"But what… is there nothing you can do?" he interrupted. "Have you tried getting back in contact with the pilots?"

"Yes, we have, but there is just no signal. I mean, there could be nothing. It happens occasionally that flights have technical problems with the radios. I am just worried they have not yet landed. They should have been here forty minutes ago."

"Forty minutes! But what are you saying? Do you think there has been an accident?"

"I don't know, sir. But we're doing everything we can to find out. Do you have any orders, sir?"

Mr. Dickenson sunk back into the seat of the nearest chair. "Yes, I do." He hesitated for a little while before continuing. "First, call different police stations and hospitals located on different parts of the flight route, and ask for anything that might be of help. If you don't find anything, get in contact with the FBI and ask for access to a satellite. Get as many shots of unpopulated areas on the route as you possibly can, and see if you find anything. Also, contact the families of the two pilots; they deserve to know."

"Got it. I'll call you back in an hour for an update."

"Thank you." Mr. Dickenson hung up and left the phone on the dining table. He sat staring at it for a long time, a thousand thought running through his head.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, United States – March 18__th__, 05:34_

Max lay on his back, watching as star after star made itself present on the early morning sky. The clouds drifted slowly away, leaving the sky empty and wide. He felt like drowning in it, like gravity was reversed, and he could fall into the black emptiness. He could no longer feel the snow against his skin, neither the cold wind playing roughly in his hair. Even the aching pain had begun to subside. His eyelids felt so heavy, and his mind so empty of all thoughts, it seemed the most perfect situation to fall asleep.

Instead, he chose to do something he had never done before, just because he had never bothered to. He counted the stars. The millions of distant lights reflected in his own eyes, and he couldn't help but wonder why whoever was up there with them, had created something as small and unnecessary as himself, after creating something as glorious and grand as the starry sky. It didn't make much sense. But then again, what did?

Something deep inside him still knew that the stars were huge deadly orbs of fire, but his mind pushed away what little sense he had, and saw them only as the last good thing he had left. He could no longer move, no longer stand, and no longer run away, no matter how much he wanted to.

He didn't even bother to look at whoever had been standing right beside him for the past minutes. He couldn't feel the presence on any of his friends, and so it didn't really matter. It was when he suddenly heard voices that his mind snapped back into some sort of reality, and he managed to focus on the shadows surrounding him. His eyesight was blurry for a short moment, but he couldn't generate the strength to lift his hand and rub it away. A man stood behind him, looking down at his face, so that he saw him upside down. The man had short golden blonde hair, and eyes of Caribbean blue. He would have been a beautiful sight, had it not been for the hideous look on his face. The look of victory. Another man came into eyesight, but not long enough for Max to see him clearly.

"I just can't believe how it's possible," the blonde man said. His voice sounded faded, and Max could barely make out the words. "Do you think he jumped?"

Just like someone had turned on a switch, he could feel his own body again. The cold, the pain was more than he could bear, and a frustrated groan escaped his lips. He closed his eyes tight and just wished for it to go back to how it had just been. But the numbness did not come back, neither did the sleepy feeling. He was fully aware that two strangers were with him, and that he was somewhere unbearably cold. The snow underneath him had started to melt long ago, seeping into his clothes, and clinging to his skin.

"I don't know. He's far away from the crash site though, that much I can tell."

"What should we do?"

"Nothing. He's not going to last long. Come on, Erik"

"Are you sure? I rather think we should-"

"Do what? Waste a bullet on him?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I think," Erik said. "'Cause you know what? If you don't finish this assignment, you're never going to see your daughter again, and you know that! You gave them a promise, a deal, and now, when we are _this_ close," he lifted his hand showing his thumb and index finger almost touching. "to the finish line, you're going to back out? I don't want to spend the rest of my time up here, looking over my shoulder. It's better this way."

Max lay listening. They probably thought he was unconscious. Despite the cold, he felt sweat starting to make itself present on his forehead. The two men were quiet for a long time, and he could only hear the man called Erik, who had started kicking the snow under his boot up into the air.

"There will be an investigation," the second man said. "These people are no nobodies. If the police discover bullet holes in them, they will know it wasn't an accident."

"They will know anyway! Our bodies are the only ones not lying at the crash site," Erik objected, pointing in the direction of where he had seen the plane go down. "They probably know our names. If we finish this, then we can go back and start over. We'll get new ID's, and you can pick up your little girl. It's our best option."

Dimitri still hesitated.

Erik sighed, and drew out a Heckler & Koch pistol from his belt. "Alright, I'll do it then! You just stay there and-" He turned around and stopped mid sentence as he noticed the boy was no longer lying in the snow. Instead, he saw footprints leading away from them, and into the direction which he had pointed only minutes ago.

Max ran faster than he had ever done in his entire life. He felt the heat racing through his body, like it burnt away every rest of ice and snow. His breath came in short gasps for air, and he felt his lungs burn, like they too were on fire. Short mountain trees flew by, and snow was thrown up into the air as he ran past. He followed the direction in which the blonde man had pointed. How he had managed to even move while the two men were arguing, was beyond him. But he had no time to look back in case they followed him.

Here and there he noticed trails of the landing; like a broken treetop or a pile of branches lying on the ground, covered in snow. The sky was beginning to lighten. The horizon had gone from golden, to a pale blue, and the late stars were beginning to disappear from sight.

He stopped and leaned back towards the nearest tree. His chest hurt from lack of air, and he felt the kind of dizziness you usually feel before you are going to faint. He closed his eyes shut, and just waited for it to stop. The feeling slowly subsided. Max quickly examined himself, looking for any damage. As far as he could tell, he looked just fine, except for a huge bruise on his left arm, and the fact that his face felt oddly stiff, like he was wearing a skin tight mask. His shoes were not meant for this kind of weather, and were now soaked, along with the bottom half of his jeans. The thin jacket he was wearing didn't help much either. He hugged himself and blew into his hands, anything to keep himself warm. After a couple of minutes, he started walking.

He suddenly understood how the Pevensie siblings must have felt after entering the closet and finding Narnia in the middle of the winter. He was soaked, cold, and completely exhausted, and he had absolutely no idea where he was. Maybe the second man had talked the blonde guy into leaving him alone, because he could not hear anyone following him. He kept walking for a long while, watching the sky brighten into a deep blue. It soon became clear to him that he must have trailed off and walked in the wrong direction of the crash site.

Again he stopped, and looked around, just to see what he had seen the whole day: trees and snow. He followed his own footprints back to a small clearing. Here, he bent down and picked up a white piece of metal. He had not seen it before, due to its bright color. A couple of meters away he found another bigger piece, and then followed the direction of the trail. Before, when he was about to drift into sleep, he had been thinking about his own life. Now, that he was back on his feet, he started thinking about his team mates. He figured that if he had fallen off the plane, he must have been the one with least luck, and since he survived, he was sure they had too. Still, he knew such landings sometimes ended in disaster. He tried not to picture the final landing in the movie Con Air, where the plane was smashed to pieces.

Somehow, he managed to end up on a small hill, looking out over the endless white peaks. He could see no end to them; and as the first rays of the morning sun shone over the lonely landscape, he saw that they just continued as far as his tired eyes could see. He felt so small; he suddenly remembered the feeling of falling into nothingness. A loud click echoed through the thin morning air.

"Hallo, Max," a familiar voice said from behind him. Max turned around slowly, and looked at them calmly. Erik had just removed the security from his gun, which he now pointed straight at Max. He saw the second man clearly for the first time. He was maybe ten years older than Erik, with short, black hair, and dull brown eyes. His expression was that of a man who did something out of others will, and not his own. They were both wearing thick winter jackets over some sort of black uniform. Erik stood completely still, pointing his gun at him, with a determined glint in his eyes. The other man looked restless, and stood shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Who are you?" Max almost whispered. Erik, who was the closest, barely made out the words.

"It doesn't really matter," he said. Max locked eyes with him, and tried his best not to blink. Erik pressed his index finger over the trigger, and the quiet air was shattered by the unbearably loud bang. The sound echoed between the peaks, and finally subsided. At first, he felt nothing; he just stared right into Erik's blue eyes. It wasn't before Erik lowered the gun, that Max felt his strength drain from him, like he'd just run till he was out of breath. He took one step back to gain some balance, but found only air. In one horrible second, everything came over him at once. The feeling of falling; the very same sensation that wakes you up in the middle of the night. Just that there was nothing to wake up from. And the realization of being shot. He screamed out in fright as his back met the ground, and the air was knocked out of him. He kept falling, and the world disappeared in ice and snow.

* * *

**Sorry about the cliffhanger. And unfortunately I won't be able to update in a couple of weeks. R&R.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry about the wait.**

**Chapter 7**

* * *

_The Beyblade Research Centre, California, United States – March 18th, 00:34_

Hilary Tatibana was not usually the kind of person to dwell on things she could not change. She usually waved those moments goodbye, and let the past stay behind her. But for once, she made an exception. She stood in the doorway of the private jet which had arrived with her and Grandpa Granger only five minutes ago, and with a sigh stepped out on the top step to make her way down to American soil. The warm air played gently in her hair, and she closed her eyes and turned her face towards it. She wore a pair of elegant jeans, a white blouse, grey shoes, and a classic blazer, which was enough to make her want to change into a bathing suit and jump into the nearest pool. The sky was pitch black, with no moon or stars visible. The airport shone like a lighthouse in a sea storm, and gave the illusion of warmth and comfort. She knew that the minute she stepped inside, she would be pushed in all directions by people rushing by trying to make it to their flights. Moments like this made her feel wonderfully small. She smiled gently and took off her blazer, shifting her grip on the bag handle.

"So, dudette," a voice behind her said. "This is it! We are finally here!" It had been ten years; still Tyson's grandfather didn't look a day older since the day she'd been introduced to him. It was his idea to let the former team take the other flight, to catch up and get some time to talk before they met the other teams. Hilary had spent her flight either sleeping, reading, or writing in a Sudoku book she'd bought at the JFK Airport Tax Free.

The fight with Tyson was still fresh in mind. One of many. They quarrels had become almost a routine, and somehow a day wasn't quite complete without at least one of them. She and Grandpa passed the security control, and walked out the doors of the airport, and into the new world of California. People hurried by, not caring about the time of day, and the sounds of cars and smells of the big city made them stop to adjust to their new surroundings. Grandpa Granger called on a taxi, and gave him the address. As the taxi drove out of the airport, Hilary turned in her seat to look at the San Diego International Airport sign, which quickly disappeared in the rush of traffic.

She looked down at the small screen of her cell phone, and started writing. She deleted a couple of sentences, and worked on the message till she felt it could be used. Her finger hovered over the Send button for a couple of seconds, and then pressed it.

_Tyson._

_Let's work it out one more time._

_Safe flight._

_Love You._

_Hilary _

She sat watching the city light fly by outside the window, and quickly fell asleep. There is just something really tiring by sitting in a dark car, with the hum of the engines as the only sound. She woke up by the sound of her door opening, and looked up into the familiar face of a woman with shoulder length red hair, and a white labcoat tucked around her.

"Are we here?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and sitting up to get out of the car. The air was so warm and gentle, she felt like she'd just sat down in a hot bathtub. She stood on a huge parking lot outside an even bigger building. She had to bent her head to backwards in order to see the rooftop. The American Beyblade Research Center consisted of three buildings; one that looked like an office building, one that looked more comfortable and welcoming which she thought would be the hotel, and the biggest of them she thought had to be the testing area. The three white buildings were connected by several bridges. Hilary took it all in, while her eyes adjusted to the mere size of the Center. She could no longer see the city light behind her, and the road disappeared behind her.

"It's good seeing you again, Hilary," the redhead said. Hilary took a closer look at her, and then snapped completely out of her drowsiness.

"Emily!" she shrieked, loud enough for Grandpa Granger, who was already on his way to the main entrance, turned around to see if she was in any kind of danger. Emily, the former member of the American PPB All Stars team, was nothing like she'd used to be. Before her stood an elegant woman, with hair that looked like fire in the distant lights from the windows. A pair of black, professional glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, and gave her a touch of class. Hilary suddenly felt shabby looking in her travel clothes.

"Come on," she said, and took her bag. "You are some of the first to arrive. The Majestics were the first, and we're expecting the Beybreakers any time now." Hilary followed Emily to the main doors, and suddenly felt consumed by light. Everything inside the building was in bright colors, yet not so that you got that uncomfortable hospital feeling. Emily had led her straight into the hotel, and the main hall functioned as the reception. The ceiling, which was held up by five great pillars, was covered in mirrors. The walls were in a light sandy color, and the stone floor was covered in thick carpets. The reception desk stood on the opposite wall of the main door, and two stairs led to the upper floors on each side of it. A beautiful chandelier hung from the mirrored ceiling, and gave the illusion of a heavenly light shining down upon them. Hilary watched the reflected light in the thousand of glass pieces, but had to shield her eyes after a couple of seconds.

Emily took off her lab coat, and revealed a tight black dress. She waved at the man behind the reception desk, who smiled back and nodded friendly at Hilary, while saying: "Welcome to America, Miss Tatibana". Hilary stuttered a thank you, and followed Emily to the elevator. She pressed the up button with her polished index finger, and they waited. The elevator gave a short pling, and the doors opened. It was empty except for one man. Michael Parker, dressed in the typical lab coat, was too busy reading through a brown file, too even notice elevator had stopped. It wasn't before Emily shouted "Are you not fucking dressed!" that he dropped the files, which landed on the floor, and looked at the two women in horror. Hilary snickered behind Emily. Michael was a tall man, and in a lab coat he looked like one of those sexy doctors in a hospital TV show.

"Calm it, Emz," he said, holding his hands up in defeat. "I'm going! I'm going!" Emily stared after him as he walked up the stairs behind the reception desk. They stepped into the elevator, and not a minute after, they were a few floors above the reception. The halls were decorated in a darker shade of purple, with baroque patterns on the walls, and the same chandeliers hanging wherever there was enough space.

"Your room is next to mine," Emily said. "We're planning on a little party in the lounge; that's why we're all dressed like this." She gestured at the black dress.

"But I didn't pack any formal clothes," Hilary said, slightly embarrassed. Emily blinked at her.

"Not to worry. I found you a dress I know will look wonderful on you."

Finally, Emily stopped outside one of the many doors. A golden plate with the number 247 hung on the door. Emily handed her a set of old fashioned keys, which didn't exactly go with the modern look of the building. "Just take your time," she said. "All you're going to need, is in there. Here is my number," she handed her a card with her number on it. "Just call me when you are ready, and I'll pick you up. And don't worry," she turned and walked down the corridor. "the party won't last long. I'm sure you need some sleep after the flight." Then she rounded the corner, and Hilary was left alone. She unlocked the door, and slowly opened it. The lights flickered on, and she stood in the entrance door, gaping at the room. It was high under the ceiling. Like downstairs, everything was in white. A king size bed stood just beside the door leading to a small porch, opposite the bed was a huge closet, and a desk. A other door led to a private toilet. It was all beautifully decorated in baroque patterns and curved lines, with warm colors of chocolate brown and pale white. She took her bag and walked further inside, sitting down on the bed, and just looked around. On the bed lay a dress. She picked it up and examined it. It was a deep ocean blue, strapless, and ended just above her knees. The fabric fell in waves and felt cool under her hand. A pair of matching shoes lay in a shoebox on the floor beside the bed. Hilary smiled, and fell backwards, closing her eyes, and felt the soft warmth of the bed begging her to fall asleep.

Half an hour later, she got up again. Hilary checked her cell phone, but didn't really expect Tyson to have answered. Which he hadn't. She opened her bag and packed out all of her clothes, before she went into the bathroom (which was just as beautifully decorated as the bedroom), and got into the shower. While showering she thought about what she'd might say to Tyson when they finally met again. It was hard, because none of them wanted to be seen as the weak one, and especially not the one to apologize first, or admit defeat. She dried her hair, curled it, and put on some of her night makeup. A silver necklace lying on the night side table caught her attention, and she slowly put it on, admiring how the silver emphasized her curls. The blue dress was perfect, and she spent almost ten minutes just looking at her own reflection.

Emily arrived and knocked on her door. The two girls went downstairs, back to the reception, and chose another route to get to the lounge. When approaching, she could hear faded voices through the two mahogany doors. The lounge was big enough to be called a ballroom, it too with large pillars reaching up to a mirrored ceiling. The walls were covered in portraits of different people, and comfortable looking sofas and chairs were placed all around the room. In the far end of the room sat Mr. Dickenson and Grandpa Granger, both in their best suits, talking lively about past years and years to come. Robert Jurgen and Johnny McGregor of the Majestics stood by one of the portraits, studying its details. When Hilary and Emily entered, they heard footsteps behind them, and turned to see Enrique Giancarlo and Oliver Polanski. Enrique bowed in front of her, with a wide grin on his face, and offered her his hand. She linked her arm in his and they all walked over to the others, while complimenting each other on the changes they'd gone through. Mr. Dickenson rose from his seat and shook her hand, and Hilary was reminded of how she had always thought of him as a favorite uncle.

"Welcome, Hilary," he said. "It's a pleasure seeing you again." Johnny McGregor nodded friendly at her and offered her a glass of wine, which she accepted. She sat down with Emily, who told her everything about the Center, and how her latest research was going. Hilary listened while watching the portraits hanging around the room. It took her a while before she noticed she could recognize almost all of them. Emily's voice seemed to fade into nothing, as she turned her eyes from one portrait to another, her smile going wider from each one. The one closest to her was a painting of a young Mr. Dickenson. She recognized him by his eyes. He stood holding a silver beyblade and several documents, which she thought were supposed to be the BBA Declarations and game rules. She remembered how Tyson had once told her about how he was the first to write these rules down and use them in tournaments. Then there were some portraits of people she could not recognize, but three paintings away, was one of Judy. Her short blonde hair was painted so lively, Hilary thought she could see it move in a light breeze. The painted Judy held a couple of very modern launchers, and several books about beyblading. Hilary sipped her wine and let her eyes wander across the painted faces of famous beyblade scientists. Some of them, she thought she had seen pictured in books and magazines. Her gaze fell on the opposite wall, which was covered in smaller portraits, to make room for all of them. She smirked as she saw that they had gone from scientists to actual beybladers.

The PPB All Stars had their own portrait. All of them looked glamorous, and much similar to how they looked today. Several unfamiliar faces looked back at her from the portraits, and she gave herself a mental note to do some research on beyblade history.

"Do you like them?" Hilary snapped out of her trance, and turned to see that Johnny had sat down in Emily's seat, who had gone to talk to Enrique about his career within sports cars. Johnny was completely relaxed, with the ankle of his right leg resting on his left knee, and his left arm resting on the back of the sofa. He was wearing a modern yet vintage suit that made him look like he came from the late 19th century. He actually reminded Hilary of a picture she had once seen of Ewan McGregor, and tried not to picture him in a kilt.

"Yeah, I love them. Are they by the same artist?"

"They are," Johnny said. He watched the beyblader wall for a while, before asking "Do you know who they are?". Hilary sighed inwardly, and wished he had not asked. She shook her head.

"I mean, those are clearly Michael, Emily Rick, Steven and Eddy. But I'm not sure about the others."

Johnny rose from his seat and sat down next to her. He pointed at a portrait hanging next to the All Stars group picture. "That is Edward McLarren. He died in 1645, and is the first ever to have reportedly been able to capture a bitbeast inside an object. You see, before the invention of beyblades, people used bitbeasts to strengthen their weapons. He captured a water bitbeast inside a rapier, and became one of England's finest swordsmen." Hilary looked at the man, who wore the red uniform of the King's guard. The rapier in his hand shone like it was made out of stars, and not steel. She noticed the picture of a water serpent carved in around the handle.

"That," Johnny pointed at the portrait next to that of McLarren. "Is Tomoe Nakamura, who I think died in the eighties. She made the first attack ring. And that is Willow Winther, the great maker of the first functional beyblade." Hilary looked into the eyes of the old inventors and beybladers, and felt admiration for all of them. Johnny pointed out a couple of classic beybladers who had been very popular in the fifties and sixties. "And that is Garrett Hammond, the most popular commentator in all time; I think he did more than three thousand battles. And I am sure you recognize Alexander Hiwatari over there. And that is-"

"What!" Hilary jumped out of her seat, frightening Oliver into spilling his wine down his suit, and walked over to stand just in front of the portrait. It showed a man in his mid thirties. He had raven black hair, and handsome features. He looked at her with warm eyes and a gentle smile, holding a blue beyblade. It shone in warm colors, making the man's eyes shine. She could see the tattoo of a phoenix on his neck, slightly exposed over the white shirt he was wearing.

"Alexander Hiwatari?" she whispered. "You mean… Kai's father?"

"That's right," Johnny said, standing right behind her. "Finest beyblader Russia has ever seen."

"Is that Dranzer?"

"The very same."

"Is he still beyblading?" Hilary asked, still looking at the brown eyes of the man. They looked red from the light coming from the beyblade.

"No, he died in the early nineties," Johnny said. Hilary froze and thought about his answer. Hearing about the other professors and beybladers deaths had just been interesting. But this was the father of someone she had used to know…okay, not very well, but enough to make her sad hearing about the death of someone close to him. "It was a big deal, actually," Johnny continued. "He is the only beyblader ever to have been killed by his opponent's bitbeast. It was a tournament in 1992, I think. He was winning in the semifinals and would have gone straight to the top, no doubt. But he was accidentally hit by the bitbeasts attack, and brought to hospital. I believe he died a couple of days later, from internal bleedings."

Hilary read the note underneath the portrait: The first beyblader to have won the Russian tournament 7 times in a row. She then turned her gaze at the portrait beside Mr. Hiwatari, where a similar portrait of his son, Kai, showed the young man holding the very same beyblade. Underneath, she read: The only beyblader to have been able to control the level 8 bitbeast Black Dranzer."

Hilary looked into both of the men's eyes, and could picture how the artist had put his heart into making their gazes soft and gentle; they were like an illusion, where you first thought they were looking out at the room, but when you stepped closer you could clearly see that they were really looking at each other.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, United States – March 18th, 05:42_

Kenny stumbled through the snow reaching to his knees, and tried to recognize the small trail of footprints that was supposed to lie just ahead of him. The sky welcomed the arrival of the morning sun, which now sent its first light over the highest peaks. He could now see that the jet had landed just between two of these peaks, which, he though, was almost too much luck to be reality. He kept walking up the small hillside leading away from the wreck, found the familiar spot between a gap in the trees, where the wind seemed less strong. There, he saw someone just outside of a small entrance, leading into the snowy hillside. He quickly recognized Tyson, who had now put on one of the winter jackets they'd found in the plane. The past hour, after they'd gotten out of the jet, he had been digging like crazy, to create a shelter for the howling wind. Kenny didn't even know Tyson had had such survival instinct in him. Sure, he was brave in the everyday life, and while beyblading, but even Kenny, who was by far the calmest of the group, had felt utterly helpless in the situation they'd been thrown into. Tyson seemed to keep his mind clear and focused, and Kenny could not help but admire that side of him.

"Kenny? Did you find him?" Tyson yelled, trying to reach Kenny through the wind. He could see his friends eyes clouded with worry. He was holding a couple of green branches in his arms, probably long enough to cover the entrance of the cave, which he was sure were their purpose. Kenny shook his head, and tried not to show any of his own worry. Tyson looked away for a second. Kenny had too put on one of the thick jackets, but his jeans were soaked, and his legs were like ice. He could see his breath like smoke coming out of his mouth, and the wind would not leave his hair alone. He hugged himself, and hid his hands into the sleeves of the jacket. Tyson stepped aside, and gestured to the entrance.

"You should get inside."

"What about you?" Kenny asked. Tyson looked like he hadn't slept in twenty four hours. His hands were blue from the cold, and his jeans were too soaked with melted snow. Kenny feared that his friend might overestimate his own strength, like he'd done during so many beybattles, and work himself to sleep.

"Don't worry about me," he replied. "I'll be in soon."

Kenny nodded, and made a mental note to go out and force him inside if he didn't come within ten minutes. He bent down on all fours, trying his best not to let his knees tough the ground, and crawled into the cave. Tyson had done a good job. The cave was wide enough for five people, and high enough so that it was almost possible to stand up straight. Branches of mountain pine were scattered around, creating a layer on the ground. In the center of the cave floor was a pile of smaller branches, and Kenny could see someone, probably Tyson, had tried to light them on fire by using the old method. Their luggage lay in one corner of the cave, along with everything else Kenny had found in the plane. Ray sat in the far end of the cave, with a white sweater in his hands. He had folded up the bottoms of his jeans, and the deep gashes on his legs were visible. He looked up as Kenny crawled inside, and made his way to sit closer to examine Tyson's failed fire project.

"Anything?" Ray asked. Once again, Kenny shook his head. He had been outside, calling out for Max in half an hour, listening for anything in reply. He had stopped once, when he'd heard a sound that echoed between the peaks. Just like Tyson, Ray just looked away, and busied his hands with trying to tear the sweater into bits. He picked up a bottle of water, and poured some of it on the wounds, before wrapping his legs with the bits of fabric. Kenny saw the pained expression of his friend, but was not sure whether it was because his legs hurt, or because he was worried for Max. Kenny looked down at the pitiful excuse for a bonfire.

"Tyson is doing a good job," Ray mumbled. Kenny nodded, not looking at him. He tried rubbing two sticks together, like he'd seen Tom Hanks doing in Cast Away. He could hear Tyson walking around outside. "We need to get to a hospital," Ray whispered. Kenny had barely heard him, but stopped rubbing the sticks, and just listened. "We're not going to make it here."

"….I know."

"They are probably looking for us already."

"Probably." Kenny continued working on the fire, but found no results. "TYSON!" he yelled at his friend. "Come on, get in here!" Five seconds later, they heard Tyson just outside the entrance, and then they saw him crawling into the cave. He sat down next to Ray, and started blowing warm breath on his hands.

"Is he warm enough?" Tyson asked, gesturing to the pile of luggage and warmer clothing lying in the back of the cave. Kenny looked closer at it, and suddenly noticed their captain lying covered in jackets and warm sweaters and with the one blanket they'd found. Kenny made his way over to him, and looked down at him. The blue face paint on his cheeks were smudged out, his eyes were closed, and his skin deathly pale. Kenny touched his cheek with his hand.

"Still cold," he said. "But he's heating up."

Ray finished his bandaging, and laid back on the improvised floor. "I checked him over while you were away. He's got some broken ribs, his right index finger is broken, and a piece of glass from the front window penetrated his shoulder. It's did not go deep, but it's going to leave an impressive scar."

Kenny noticed some of the bandaging from the first aid kit he'd found, wrapped around Kai's left shoulder. "He'll be fine as long as he stays warm," Kenny said.

They sat in silence for a little while, long enough for all off them to start feeling slightly uncomfortable. Kenny couldn't remember one single tense moment between them, not even after they'd fought about something. Those things were usually the same old stupid things, like whose time it was to battle Tyson, and so on, and they'd always laughed about it afterwards. Still, sitting there with his old friends, after years of parting, it was like he was around strangers. Or maybe these were just sides of them he'd never seen before; after all, he'd never seen them in such a situation before. Thank God. He remembered though, how those fights had usually ended with Kai rolling his eyes, and just walking out the room, before any other of them did anything. After that, they'd just look at each other and start laughing. Maybe the real reason no one dared even look at each other at that moment, was because the whole routine was broken. Instead, Ray said the most depressive thing that came to his rarely depressed mind:

"It will be hard for anyone to find us out here, you know."

Tyson sat looking into the snow wall with his eyes half closed; nodding slightly, probably just to show that he was still awake.

"I just," Ray said, almost whispering. "I just don't know what to do."

"I do," said Tyson unexpectedly, not taking his eyes off the wall. Kenny and Ray looked at him. "We need to stay together. I won't lose any more of you."

"Tyson…" Kenny battled with himself whether or not to place a hand on his friend's shoulder. He decided not to. There was something about the whole situation that made him feel strangely calm. He knew that it had been hours since they had woken up and discovered that one of them were gone, and the rest of them injured. Kenny already felt better, and he knew that he was the one of them in the best condition. Still, he was not sure how long any of them could make it out here. He looked down at his bag, lying just beside Kai's left foot. He reached out for it, and opened the zipper. Some of his warmer clothes had been removed, probably by Tyson. The only things left were a couple of books, a new project he'd been working on to show Judy when he finally arrived in California, and the new laptop. He took out the laptop, and placed it on a dry spot on the branches on front of him. Ray followed his every move with his eyes; Tyson kept looking at the wall, blinking now and then. The laptop was completely dead, but he hadn't expected anything else. He pressed the ON button, but nothing happened.

"Do you think…?" Ray whispered. Kenny shrugged his shoulders, while looking the machine over.

"I don't know. I have never destroyed her laptop before…"

Tyson finally too his eyes away from the wall, and looked down at Dizzi's old laptop. Kenny felt like something black and empty started growing inside him, like a balloon ready to burst. He could feel Tyson's eyes on him, watching him, waiting for what had to come. He'd been through it so many times already, he knew the symptoms.

Ray jumped in fright when Kenny quickly straightened up. If he'd had a choice, he would have been on his feet by then, but the damn ceiling was too low. He felt the balloon inside him burst, his pulse raced away, and his heart pound like crazy. "I can't believe this!" he shouted. Ray stared at him, his mouth open. "Why? How? What the HELL is going on!" Kenny gripped the laptop so hard his hands whitened. "This was not supposed to…" he trailed off as a sob mixed with his words. He looked away from them.

"Max," he whispered, trying to hold back his sobs. "Oh God…" Tyson didn't dear look at him, but he could see his face tremble, like he was about to explode into words, just like he'd done himself. Perhaps he was afraid he'd shed tears if he blinked. "And Kai," he gestured towards their captain, who lay completely still, wrapped up in anything they'd found that could help him getting warmer.

Tyson then did what he hadn't dared; he placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "There isn't much we can do, Chief," he said, his voice surprisingly calm and steady. "We'll just have to… keep awake."

Kenny sniffed, and tried not to show his friends his pained face. As he turned around, he noticed the few books he'd brought, still lying in the open bag. He took the closest, "Angels &Demons", by Dan Brown, and tore out the first few pages. He placed them underneath the pile of branches, and continued trying to make a fire. After a couple of minutes, Tyson went outside, and didn't show up for a while. Ray sat leaning his forehead on the snow wall, to keep from falling asleep. Half an hour later, the small pile of branches lit on fire, and Kenny blew it into a small bonfire. He took the fresh end of one branch and poked it through the wall, to make an oxygen hole.

"We need more wood," he said, and then left Ray to his thinking. Tyson was not around the cave. He had walked around the area to make a small maze of deep pathway, so none of them (especially not Ray) would have to fight themselves through the snow. Kenny stopped by the lowest branches of a random tree, and broke some of them off. He froze in his movements when he heard Tyson's voice from far away, calling out for his lost friend. Kenny stood underneath the tree for almost an hour, feeling how the wind tore at him, like it wanted to fly him away. Not once did he hear Tyson stop calling, and neither did it sound like he came any closer to the cave. Finally, he turned around and crawled back inside the cave.

* * *

**R&R D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 06:09_

Sometimes, the only way to make a change inside yourself, is to have someone help you from the outside. Change is never easy, but when you have finally achieved it, you probably never forget the moment it happened. What he remembered from that day, used to be a distant memory of voices, emotions, and the feeling of sinking deeper and deeper into himself. And the cold. Always the unbearable cold.

To this day, he'd never thought he'd feel colder than he'd done that day. He had managed to hide it then, but this time he was sure anyone could see he was shivering. He wanted to tell then he way fine; because he was sure he could hear their voices. But every time he talked to them, they even kept quiet, or started talking about something else. Like they avoided his questions. Questions of which he really needed answers. There was something wrong to the whole picture, though. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

Kai Hiwatari didn't open his eyes; yet he was wide awake. He could no longer hear their voices, only the sound of his own heartbeats and the ragged breath that could only be his own. After learning that he was alone, he started searching himself to see if everything was okay. He could feel a numb pain in his head, like the remains of a hangover, and a small but annoyingly sharp pain shot through his chest every time he drew his breath. A cold similar to the water from the ice clad lake had fallen over his feet, arms and hands. After just a couple of seconds, the cold became too much, and he opened his eyes. Above him was a thick layer of snow, and the panicked feeling of claustrophobia had him gasping for highly needed air. He turned his head, slowly not to make the headache any worse. He was surrounded by snow, in some kind of cave. On the far side of the cave was a small opening that seemed to have been covered up with green pine tree branches.

He lay there in utter confusion for about a minute, before he started thinking back to try to remember any reason why he had just woken up anywhere else than in the comfortable hotel room he was sure he'd checked into just a couple of days ago. He sincerely hoped he hadn't been drinking and gone outside and dug himself a snow cave to sleep in. It would explain the headache. The Medias would love that one. He looked down at himself, and noticed he was covered in dozens of layers of clothes piled around him. He removed some of them, and sat up, steadying himself with his left hand. His right hurt when he moved it. When he sat up, he felt a shot of pain like lightning bolt up his chest, and he clenched his hand over his ribs with a muffled groan. His right hand was bandaged with fabric from a first aid kit, that he was sure of, but his chest was bandaged in some blue fabric he thought would have come from a sweater. As the clothes covering him fell off when he moved, he could feel how cold he was. His head was almost burning with heat, though, like he had a fever.

He picked up one of the sweaters, a huge black one, and pulled it over his head, before he put on the warmest jacket he could find. He was already wearing warm pants and winter boots, though he didn't remember where he'd gotten them from. He slowly rose to his feet, feeling that he could manage to stand if he didn't make any sudden movements. With his hand clenched to his chest, he crawled through the opening, and was met with a fiery sunrise. The sun was climbing its way up the sky, sending shadows from the tall tree tops that covered the landscape as far his eyes could see. Apparently, he was standing at the feet of a huge drop from a tall mountain peak, and around him, that scenery just continued in endless masses of snow, mountains and the clear blue sky. He shielded his eyes form the low light with a flat hand, and looked from side to side, like he was about to cross a trafficked road. The cold felt like needles against his skin, and there was nothing he wanted more, than to go back inside the cave. But he knew he had to find someone. Anyone. He started walking slowly down the small hill he was standing on. He remembered getting on a plane with his friends, and that something had happened. The plane had never landed where it was supposed to. He had landed it himself. Somewhere. He could remember the adrenaline, the panic, voices from people he knew. And some from people he was sure he didn't. One voice.

"_This is the place."_

Kai stopped. He was looking down at the snow without really seeing it. What he remembered better than anything else, was that one sentence. But the voice he connected it to, was nothing like those of his friends. He kept moving through the thick snow that now reached him to over his knees. Here and there he could see footprints in the snow, similar to his own. Tired of walking. He kept his gaze forward, looking past the trees and trying to see anything else than what he'd already seen. But the only thing that changed was the shifting wind. Until…

Kai crossed the invisible line that told him it was the end of the small forest, and he was standing in a huge clearing. Peaks shielded the field on all sides, the only gap was on the east side, where two peaks seemed to bend away from each other, so to make a door into the clearing. In the middle of the clearing was the wreck of a small jet. The body was bent and twisted, but mostly intact, with one wing missing, and two of the engines scattered in pieces. Metal parts lay everywhere around it. The wind shuffled snow up into the air and down at the cold metal, like it was ashamed of it, and was trying to hide it from sight. He could also see movement. A man standing right outside the emergency exit at the front of the plane, was waiting for someone who moved around inside. Kai could see him through the small windows.

Later, when he looked back on that particular moment, he couldn't remember what it was that made him so sure these two people were someone he wanted to stay away from. Maybe it was their aggressive movements, like they were looking for something to tear apart. Kai stepped closer to the trees, so not to expose himself. He was an easy target in the dark clothes. He watched as the other man jumped out of the entrance and landed in the snow. The two of them stood there for a little white, talking. It was impossible for him to hear any of their words, but he could see from the way they moved, that they were both angry and irritated. He wanted to leave, wanted to turn back and run. But something told him that what he was watching was something he needed to see. He sat down, resting his elbows on his knees, and just kept an eye on the two men. He felt his hair sway with the wind, and the snow slowly melting on his clothes. In mere seconds, he felt like he had stepped into somewhere where time went by slower. He never let go of the clearing with his gaze, yet his eyes were getting tired, and he could feel his eyelids slowly drop. The men in the clearing turned into only dark shades, and he could barely see them anymore. It wasn't before he could see something shining in the one man's hand, that he snapped awake from his dream like state. The sun was behind a wall of heavy grey clouds, and so it could not have been the reason for the light. Kai struggled to make out the shapes from that far away, but by the time the man had put the shiny object in his pocket, he knew what it was.

Whoever these men were, they had Draciel.

* * *

_The Beyblade Reseach Center, California, USA – March 18th, 00:58_

Hilary Tatibana stood outside her hotel room, trying to find her keys. Even though she had only brought a small clutch, she had to take out her cell phone, iPod and lipstick before she could find the old fashioned keys. She unlocked the door, threw the clutch on a nearby chair, took the high heeled shoes off with her feet, and let herself fall into the soft fabric of her bed. She didn't even bother to take the dress off. She felt so comfortably warm and drowsy, the only thing she wanted was to sleep the night through, and wake up to a bright California day with pools and hot surfer guys. Her mind slipped away the minute she let her head fall on the pillow. She was standing alone on the beach, the waves rolling up and mixing with the warm sand, cooling her feet. She closed her eyes and just listened to the sound of water and seagulls. But the city behind her was quiet and abandoned, which bothered her. There should have been sounds coming from cars, people chatting, and little kids running around in the sand. But there was nothing. She was alone.

"Hilary."

Hilary frowned and mentally wished whoever it was that bothered her during her highly needed sleep, to go away. But that someone kept calling her name, and unwillingly, she opened her eyes. They felt like they'd been glued together, and her head spun. But whoever it was that had woken her, didn't give her any time to wake up properly.

"You have to come, Hilary. Mr. Dickenson wants to talk to you in his study."

She heard light footsteps, and the door closed. She spent a couple of minutes trying to recover, and sat up on the bed, looking at her own reflection in the mirror beside the wardrobe. Her makeup was smeared out, and she expected the rest of it was somewhere on her pillow. The hairstyle she'd spent half an hour fixing was totally ruined, and the dress was a mess. She complimented herself on her rhyming.

With complications, she stood off the bed, and went for the old military jacket that hung in the wardrobe. It had belonged to her father. She stepped into a pair of sneakers, and not bothering with the dress, stepped outside of the door, placing the keys in her pocket. She pressed the button on her cell phone that made the digital clock light up, and she sighed when she understood she'd been sleeping for nothing more than twenty minutes. As she followed the hallway, she tried fixing her makeup, and flattened down her hair with her hands. She stopped several times, trying to remember the way to Mr. Dickenson's study. Emily had probably told her sometimes during the small reception downstairs. Hilary eventually found the main hall, and asked a man who was washing the stairs for the way. He told her to take the elevator up two floors and just follow the hall till she found room number 356. She thanked him, glad she finally knew where she was going. In the elevator she looked at herself in the mirrored ceiling, and sighed in frustration over her appearance. Well, it was their own fault, waking her like they'd done. She yawned, and had a hard time walking straight while looking at the doors, trying to find the right one. Anyone who saw her would probably think she was drunk. Finally she found the door, and with a very pleased look on her face, she knocked, waiting for someone to let her inside.

Enrique was the one who opened. He looked just as tired as she felt, with ruffled hair and only wearing his pajamas. Hilary couldn't help but snicker.

"Oh, please, I've had enough of that the last ten minutes." He said, closing the door behind her. Mr. Dickenson's room looked pretty much like her own, only this was a lot bigger, and files and papers were piled everywhere, from the chair in the corner to the desk. On the bed, sitting on the floor, or leaning against the walls, were the PPB All Stars, the Majestics, Grandpa Granger, Judy, and four other boys she recognized at once.

The Blitzkrieg Boys had arrived. Ian was still the little guy of the gang, and hadn't changed much, apart from being older. Spencer and Bryan were pretty much how she remembered them too, only even bigger than they'd used to be. Tala looked short compared to them. He had cut his reddish hair short, and now looked at her with his icy blue eyes with a welcoming smile. They were all dressed in comfortable clothes, and had apparently just arrived from the airport. Enrique showed her to a seat on the bed, just next to Eddie, and she too turned her attention to Mr. Dickenson, who was sitting behind the desk. It was then that Hilary, surprised, noticed there was another man in the room. Someone she had never seen before. Mr. Dickenson was the first to speak.

"I'm sorry I had to wake all of you, but I don't think any of you would have appreciated it if I had waited with giving you any information before tomorrow morning."

"What, you mean with the reunion thing?" asked Rick. Steven hit him in the side with his elbow, and shot him a look that immediately made him quiet. Mr. Dickenson didn't laugh, like they'd expected him to. Instead he looked down at his hands, and avoided looking into anyone's eyes. That was how they knew something had gone terribly wrong.

"I believe you all know that the plane carrying the Bladebreakers should have arrived at this time, and they should have been on their way here by now. The thing is, they're not."

Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath. Hilary felt something inside her swelling up, ready to burst. She looked from Mr. Dickenson to the strange man standing behind him. And she knew all too well what he was going to say next.

"We believe something has happened. We can't get in contact with the pilots. Search helicopter are already on their way to where we lost communication with them, and we are expecting a rapport any time soon. I don't want you to panic, because there could be nothing. But I have to admit, I don't like the look of this one bit."

Suddenly, everyone seemed to awake from a deep sleep. Grandpa Granger rose to his feet faster than anyone could blink, and demanded more information about the case, while Judy covered her mouth with her hand, and had to be calmed down by Johnny and Emily.

Hilary sat quietly, listening to the sounds and voices surrounding her. She felt like she'd fallen back into her dream, only that now there were people all around. Still, the emptiness remained.

"Hold on!" Mr. Dickenson said. "This is Daniel Grey," he pointed to the man none of them had seen before. "He is the man who deals with the jets you all used to get here, and he was the one to give me this information. Daniel, could you?"

Daniel Grey was a thirty year old man, with chocolate brown hair, and a slim figure. He was wearing a professional looking suit, and he was holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, a sheet of paper in the other. He cleared his throat, and looked at them seriously.

"We kept in contact with the crew of the plane most of the way, but suddenly we just lost them. Now, that doesn't mean there is something wrong, it could just be a failure with the communication line. This has happened before, and we know what to do in this kind of situation."

"Then why did you send out people to search for them if there is nothing wrong?" Oliver asked. He was accompanied by several nods of agreement. Grey turned to Oliver.

"Because it's been a long time since we heard anything, and we need to be sure. "

"Wait a second," Johnny said, his voice sounding angrier by every second. "If something has happened, where have you gone to look for them?"

Grey paused before he answered. "We lost them somewhere over the Rocky Mountains."

The silence that followed was not out of shock. They just needed time to comprehend what he'd just said. Hilary's eyes slowly watered as she understood the meaning of his words.

"Was Kai on that flight?" Tala asked. At first, Hilary didn't recognize the voice. Tala's voice had gone a lot huskier and deeper than she remembered it being. Grey nodded.

"Then what do we do?" Judy asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"We wait," Grey said.

"Hell no!" Spencer said loudly, making them all jump. "If your assumptions are right, and the plane has crashed, they're alone in the mountains somewhere. We don't even know if they are dead of not. We can't just sit around waiting for something to happen!"

"That is exactly what you're going to do," Mr. Dickenson said. "You can't do anything yet. I promise you," he said, cutting Spencer off as he tried to protest, "that if anything comes up, I will tell you. And if there is anything you can do to help your friends, I will let you. But for now, we don't have enough information. So I suggest that if you want some sleep, you go to your rooms. Those of you who'd rather stay up and wait for news can come with me down to the lobby."

Hilary wasn't tired anymore. She was wide awake. When Mr. Dickenson went down to the lobby, she followed, along with everyone else, and sat watching the portraits covering the walls. Only now she noticed that the pictures of the Bladebreakers were scattered around, with several pictures of strangers in between them.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 06:24_

Erik jumped out of the exit door at the front of the plane wreck, and landed in the snow. Dimitri turned around quickly to look at him, and Eric noticed the first pilot's eyes were vary, like he was searching the area.

"What?" Erik asked.

Dimitri frowned, and tried to see through the wind that disturbed the air. "Nothing. I just don't like not being able to see past this clearing."

Erik shrugged. "Don't worry. If we see any grizzlies, we have our guns, right?"

"Yeah."

"Tell you what," Erik continued. "We're screwed."

The fire in Dimitri's eyes returned with full force. "What do you mean?"

"They're gone." Erik said. Erik felt terrible. He was soaked, cold, and the hunger was starting to annoy him. Of course, he was more than used to this kind of weather, but the parachute uniform and the gun he was carrying were both heavy, and his muscles ached from working themselves to the limit. He stood motionless, and let the cold build up inside him, till he could stand it no longer, and then shivered it all out, like he'd learned in the military back home. With the people from the plane gone, he knew they could stop at nothing. Neither could they go to the cabin, in fear of losing them along the way. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. and enjoyed the ice cold air. It was in environments like these, that he felt truly alive. The cold kept him awake and his mind clear, and he couldn't wait till the moment he could sit down in front of a warm fireplace, whenever he was done with this job.

"Gone?"

"Yeah."

"So they all survived?"

"Looks like it," Erik said. "But they didn't walk away from it unharmed. I found a lot of blood in the mid hallway, like someone had dragged themselves or someone else along it, and the cockpit is a mess."

"They can't have gone far," Dimitri stated. "Probably just a small distance away from the plane, in fear of being caught in an explosion."

"How long do you think it will take for someone to come here and look for them?"

"If I'm right, I'd say they're here any minute."

Erik nodded. "We better get moving then." He reached out his hand and opened his fist, showing him the bitchip that lay in the palm of his hand. It was a blue bitbeast in the shape of a turtle. "Found this," He said. "If the beast is still here, I doubt the others are far off."

Dimitri looked once more towards the line of trees in the distance. "The tracks are covered by the snow by now. But it shouldn't be too difficult." He then started moving in the direction of the trees. Erik followed close behind, feeling the warmth coming from the bitbeast in his pocket.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, United States – March 18th – 05:54_

Tom Wright was exhausted. He stopped and leaned the weight of his upper body on the ski sticks and panted. He had woken up early that morning, and decided to move on along with the sunrise. The mountains were so quiet, not even the wind could make it down here among the mighty tall trees. He sighed, feeling quite good about himself and his aching muscles. Most people never got to experience the wonderful feeling of being alone, on your own in the wilderness, just you, all by your lonesome. He was just about to continue, when he suddenly froze, as something dark lying in his path just ahead, caught his eyes. At first, it would look like something totally natural, like a rock or anything else belonging in the wild. But that was probably because that was all he had seen for a week already. He slowly made his way closer to that something. He was only three meters away, when he realized it was a person.

He quickly took off his skies, and dropped his rucksack to the ground, before falling down on his knees in front of who appeared to be a young man. He was in his twenties, wearing only a thin jacket and casual clothes. His hair was dark from the melted snow, and his eyes were shut. Tom immediately started searching for a pulse, and was almost startled to death when he realized the boy was still alive.

"Oh, dear God," he mumbled, pulling off his thick winter jacket, and wrapped it around the young man, while lifting him up in his arms. He was quite heavy, because of the wet clothes. With a lot of difficulty, he flipped open his satellite phone and dialed the first number he could think of. He waited for a long while, muttering "It's okay; it's all going to be just fine. You just hang in there, boy", while trying to shield the boy from the wind.


	9. Chapter 9

**I had actually chosen to stop writing this story. It's been such a long time since the last chapter, and I'm sure all my original readers have moved on by now. But, a couple of days ago I rediscovered all of this and I was inspired to continue. We'll see where I take it. I will probably be very slow with my updates; but hopefully not as slow as I have been this far.**

**Thank you very much for reading; and leave a review if you like.**

**Rebecca.**

**Pronunciation notice: "Aasgaard" – Aa like the a in All. (Original Norwegian: Åsgård).**

* * *

_Moscow, Russia – February 28th 2010 – 21:45_

Erik Aasgaard stood leaning against the wall outside the double-doored entrance of his boss's office. The hallway was lit with a cold white light. He resisted the urge to slide down the wall and sit on the floor, under the fear that the doors would soon open, and his boss would see him in such a state. But he couldn't deny that he was completely exhausted. The whole day had consisted of training; and he was sure he hadn't eaten since that morning. His feet ached, and he grimaced from the pain. Whatever the reason was why he was there, he just wanted them to hurry up already; get it over with, so he could go home and get a few hours of sleep. Almost without noticing, his eyes closed, and he stood in a kind of half sleep; when the double doors opened, and he awoke with a startled grunt.

Dimitri Barsukov had just exited the boss's office, and stood holding the door open for him to enter. He had an empty look upon his face, like he usually had. Erik had never really talked to the man before, even though they were in the same department. As he passed him in the doorway, they looked into each other eyes for just a second; and a muted understanding passed between them. Whatever message Barsukov had just received; he would be the next to hear. The door closed behind him, and he stood in one end of a dimly lit room, furnished like an expensive hotel room; impersonal and elegant. The opposite wall was made entirely out of glass, and overlooked the more busy part of Moscow. Tall buildings, and the light from thousands and thousands of windows, gave life to the dark nothingness. It was a room which gave the sense and feeling that whatever would happen to you next, it would be beyond your control.

Voltaire Hiwatari stood watching the cars and people on the ground far beneath them. Erik felt strangely uneasy. He had never seen Mr. Hiwatari before, and not knowing the purpose of his visit made him think he had done something to provoke his anger. He searched his memory to find anything that could support this theory; but found nothing. He had always served the company well, and kept its many secrets, so what would he want with him? It had been several months since the government had decided that, as the highly skilled businessman he was, Mr. Hiwatari should serve some of his sentence for the good of the country; which meant government business, of course under strict supervision. Trails of this could be found everywhere in the room. The walls were covered in pictures of his contacts within the system, and files lay in neat piles on the desk. Erik was sure he could read the words: водной системы планирования для верхних Москве, on the one on top. His lack of knowledge with the Russian language prevented him from translating any of it, though.

"Mr. Aasgaard."

"Yes, sir?" Erik directed his attention to the old man, who had now finally turned around and took his place in the chair behind the desk. He hesitated, before walking a few steps forward, and sat down in the chair right in front of him to hear what he had to say.

"You have been with us for quite some time; have you not, Mr. Aasgaard?"

"Yes," he stuttered, suddenly very aware of all the minor pranks and jokes he'd pulled on his fellow students and teachers over the years, and thought that maybe the quantity of it all was enough to get him kicked out of the company. "Since I was nine, sir. My father worked here, and-"

"Of course he did," Voltaire Hiwatari interrupted. "He was one of my most promising students. Actually-" He rose from his seat and handed him an old photograph, framed with a very old silver painted wooden frame. Erik took a look at the photograph, and quickly recognized his father. He was a young man, with the same golden like hair colour as himself, and the same angelic smile. He was wearing an older version of the black uniform Hiwatari wanted his workers to wear, and standing next to a black haired young man on a parking lot, surrounded by photographers and journalists wanting to give them both an interview. Had Erik not known about their relationship, he wouldn't have noticed the look they sent each other; a look of pure hate and disgust. But it was there; and a wave of anger filled him, till he put the photograph down back on the desk, picture turned down.

"It wasn't his fault," he said firmly; like this was something he'd been telling himself for years, only to convince himself it was true.

"Actually... I believe it was," Voltaire Hiwatari said. Erik looked up into his eyes, and the gaze he met was filled with a kind of firm seriousness it was impossible to talk back to. Why had Hiwatari wanted him here to discuss such matters? Ever since he had grown old enough to understand it, people had told him to get over it, and be happy about what he had.

"But... He was your son-" He started, but Voltaire Hiwatari cut him off once again.

"He was no son of mine. Not after that day." He leaned back and watched Erik like he was trying to figure him out; to find out what made him tick. "But, of course. You weren't many years old at that time; and neither was his son. But I'm sure you have thought about it many a time all these years."

Erik suddenly forgot he was his boss, and asked angrily, highly provoked by the uncomfortable conversation: "Sir, if you don't mind me asking; where do you want with this? I can't remember my father, I never met my mother, and only the gods knows where I am really from. The only proof I've got that I am who I am is my language and this." He reached under the collar of his shirt, and his hand came up holding the chain of a necklace. A small pendant shone in the dim light, and Voltaire Hiwatari could barely see the contours of a small picture on it. He leaned closer, and moved the office lamp standing on the desk, to light just at the small bitchip. It was the picture of a lynx.

"How long has that been in your possession, Mr. Aasgaard?" he asked, now with real curiosity in his voice.

"For longer than I can even try to remember," Erik answered, lowering the chain back underneath his shirt.

"Erik," Voltaire Hiwatari said. "I have a proposition for you; a chance for you to prove your skills."

"I'm listening."

Hiwatari smiled, obviously satisfied; this was exactly how he had trained his workers to behave. "I have a problem. It might not seem like much, but he's been in my way more times than I feel comfortable with." He chose a file from the small archive on his desk, and let it slide over the smooth surface till Erik caught it. The face of a young man looked up at him; and recognition struck him.

"I know him. Or, I don't know him; I've barely talked to him. But I saw him fight once. He was good." Erik put the file down. "What? Did he escape?" It was a known fact that the first rule the students heard upon arriving, was that any escape attempts would result in uncomfortable consequences; and he'd heard about a few, which had probably been a pain in the old man's ass; but never any successful ones. Hiwatari didn't seem to take the joke, not that he had expected anything less, and just looked at him in silence for a couple of seconds. Once again, Erik felt like being scanned from head to toe.

"In a way; yes. But I have other reasons to rid myself of him. And so do you."

"What?" Erik opened the file once more, but still did not remember having any quarrels with the guy. Actually, he had seemed to be quite pleasant. Never popular, not very talkative; but still. "I'm sorry, sir, but I think you're mistaken. Like I said, I never even spoke to-"

"He is the son of the man who killed your father, Erik." Hiwatari said, not loud enough to cut him off in any way; but the words muted Erik. His mind went strangely blank, like this was a case concerning anyone else but him. But then he remembered the videos he'd seen of his father, fighting in the Scandinavian and Russian tournaments; remembered how proud he'd felt every time he had some hours for himself and played the old tapes just to remember what he might have had; had it not been for that one man.

"Y-your grandson?" He stuttered; not quite believing what he'd just heard.

"My grandson," Hiwatari almost whispered. Erik was nearly frightened by the venomous tone to his voice. "was given a choice to be either with me, or against me. And he definitely chose wrong. Now, what I want to know is, are your with me, or against me, Erik?"

There was a short, painful silence. Erik weighed his opportunities, and hoped none of his thoughts would show in his eyes. Then he smirked, and said: "Definitely with you, sir".

"Excellent." He smiled warmly, and Erik was almost shocked by the transformation. He could never have thought that this cold man could ever look like a nice old grandfather; but he was dead wrong. And later he often told anyone who wanted to hear, that this was the most frightening thing of all; that someone mentally sane could make such a shift in personality in such a short time. Though, the mental state of said man could be debated.

"I have a job for you," Hiwatari said and sent him another file. "You will be working with Dimitri Barsukov on this one, and I suggest you get ready. Don't fail me on this, Mr. Aasgaard." The last sentence was said in a tone which made it sound more like a warning.

"I won't, sir." Erik made his way to the door, and had just put his hand on the door handle, when Mr. Hiwatari's voice stopped him.

"Oh, and I was also hoping you could relieve me of another concern of mine."

"Of course," Erik replied, still with his back turned against the old man. He felt uneasy, not having him within eyesight; but mentally he was already out the door, and he felt his legs really wanted to follow.

"Dimitri Barsukov. I am not expecting him to return from this job. Will you take care of that for me?"

Erik turned halfway around, but still didn't dare to look him in the eye. Instead he rested his gaze on the floor. Something within him wanted to punch the old man in the face for even asking this of him. He felt sick, and his hand slowly opened the door even without him noticing it. He wanted nothing right now but to leave.

"You will not be seeing him again ."

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 06:23_

Kai stood leaning against a tall pine tree, which hid him completely from the two men by the wreckage of Mr. Dickenson's private jet. The branches shielded him against the cold wind; which finally made him aware of other things which bothered him a lot more now that he had some time to think it over. A sharp pain in his forehead reminded him of that brutal impact with the front window of the jet; he breathed in short gasps due to what he guessed was a pair of broken ribs, and his hands ached from gripping in panic around the steering wheel.

He shivered, partly from the cold, but also from the memory of having no control what so ever, and with four other human lives in his hands. He kept a close eye on the men by the wreckage, while trying to calm himself. As the two men moved away from the plane, and started on their way over the clearing and towards the trees, Kai felt adrenaline flow through him. He felt a sudden urge to charge at them, tear them apart, and rid himself of this potential danger once and for all. But he had to be sure.

Kai lifted his good hand to push a pine tree branch to the side, while hoping that although he could see them, they would be unable to see him. The sun was rising in the skies, and the early morning rays fell on the snow, which he hoped would blind anyone who looked in his direction. The two men came closer by every step, both talking to each other. One seemed a few years older than the other; the youngest was doing most of the talking.

"Hold on…" he whispered. No, his eyes were not playing tricks on him; the black uniforms were undoubtedly property of his grandfather's old company. But how could they be? Kai was breathing hard, his mind threatening to go blank. He knew his grandfather was still serving his sentence in a way the government though was the equivalent of justice. He still very much remembered the day he was to meet in court, where Voltaire Hiwatari's fate was to be determined once and for all. He could recall his anxious waiting for a final decision, and the dark emptiness inside him when he finally heard it: Eight years in prison, and serving ten to twenty years as a government associate under strict watch. Apparently he was too good of a businessman to waste in a prison cell; which had been the fate of many of the children he'd kept as students in the Abbey. That was the last time he'd seen his grandfather.

"… your plan now, huh? We have to consider that we may not be the only ones looking for these people right now."

Kai stepped further behind the tree and held his breath while listening intently to the voice which had appeared far closer than expected. He stood still, his eyes wide and staring into nothing. No longer did he notice the cold, as all his senses were fixed on the two.

"That is not a problem at the moment." It was the older man who spoke; Kai could tell by the slightly deeper voice. "We'll handle it when or if they come."

"No, we won't," the young man said, his voice firm. "We'll be gone long before they get here. I am not putting my life in jeopardy for a few kids."

Kai shut his eyes so tight he saw small, white stars exploding in the dark. He felt like he could blend into nature; disappear and cease to exist, if only they could move on, and away from the path leading to the cave. And then he understood. If the others were to remain undiscovered, he would have to lead the danger away from them. The mere though made his heart beat so hard it was a miracle they hadn't heard him already.

"Well this is a fine mess," he said to himself. He breathed out heavily, readied himself, and leapt out from behind the tree. At that exact moment he almost screamed out loud in surprise as he felt something grip him around the forehead and force him back so he almost hit the back of his head on the icy tree trunk. The next couple of seconds he fought in blind panic against whatever was holding him, but a strange feeling of recognition made him stop. A hand was gripping him around the forehead and forcing his head upwards. He opened his eyes and stared right up into the crown of the tree. Just above him, on a branch high enough that he wouldn't be seen, sat Ray. He was looking back at him, his eyes a mixture of worry and desperation. He had never seen him in such a state; determined but scared out of his wits. Scared to he heard, scared to be seen, scared to be found.

No sound came from behind the trees, and after what felt like hours Ray loosened the grip around Kai's head. He didn't look down, though, but kept staring at his friend. He was wearing a thick winter jacket; but his hair was stained with blood, and there was something wrong, something he couldn't put his finger on. Something in his face that he hadn't seen there before. Ray moved a little and turned to make sure they were no longer in danger of being heard or seen. Kai steadied himself with a hand on the tree and looked carefully around it. The two men were gone; two trails of footsteps following the older ones leading to the cave. A soft thump told him that Ray was finally on the ground.

"Kai…" he whispered, not yet daring to raise his voice further. Kai tried not to look directly at him, but found it hard. "I thought… I mean I honestly thought I wouldn't find you."

"You're hurt," Kai said. He felt a strange kind of anger building up inside him. Someone he had sworn to protect had been harmed, and this he could not forgive himself. "A-are the others alright?" Again he felt the cold seeping through his clothes, making him shiver.

"They should be safe." Ray took Kai by the arm and led him through the small forest. Kai noticed he wasn't trying to support Kai's weight on himself, actually just the opposite. Ray was limping badly, and he quickly put an arm around him to keep him going. Despite the trees protecting the ground, snow was piling up around them, till it reached above their knees. At times Kai had to lift Ray by every step till they found harder ground.

"Up here," Ray pointed towards a small opening between the trees where the ground rose into a wall of snow covered rock. Kai looked up and saw that this was the foot of a much steeper hill covering the small valley where they'd landed. He saw footsteps leading up a crooked path.

"Don't worry; I'll make it," Ray whispered. He limped up the first few meters of the path, and pointed out spots of ice he should avoid.

"Stop," Kai said. He was walking on the outer side of the path, and so was the first to hear. It was what he'd been listening for since they started their stride through the forest: feet being dragged through thick snow. The only sound was the beating of their hearts as they stood completely still. The sounds of the two seemed to come from all around them. The sharp sound of a branch snapping in half, the never ending sound of movement in snow, and the feeling of being seen without seeing.

"Come on," he whispered. He led Ray by holding him around the upper arm. The path became a stair of rocks, roots and branches from the short mountain trees around them. One wrong move and Kai knew it would all fall apart.

"Kai, I can see them," Ray breathed in calm panic. "There." It was like turning around in a dark room where you knew there was someone standing behind you. He looked over his shoulder as he reached for an outspring of the mountain wall just above him. In the forest beneath them were the two walking between the trees. The wind was the only thing keeping them from being heard. Kai watched them as he helped Ray climb. There was something strange about the movements of one of them. He was standing still, yet moving. The other one was thirty feet beneath them, by the foot of the mountain wall.

"Ray," he said. Ray stopped to listen. "Something is not right." He frowned, still watching the still shape of the man standing furthest away. The second, the youngest, looked like he could enter the path at any second. "God," he said in realisation. The man standing by the trees was no man at all; it was a piece of a parachute hanging from a low branch. Beneath them stood the youngest man, his eyes fixed on them. And above them, hidden behind an outspring in the wall, was the other. Before he could say or do anything at all, he saw the man's fist moving towards his face. The impact put him off balance, and for one sickening moment he was standing on one foot, at the edge of the path, leaning outward over the ground forty feet below. In the next he was holding a hand over his broken nose, blood dripping from his face, close to Ray, still holding his arm. Ray had gripped a hold of his jacket at the exact right moment.

"Kai Hiwatari!" shouted the younger man from below them. "I bring greetings from your grandfather."

* * *

_The Beyblade Reseach Center, California, USA – March 18th, 11:03_

It is utterly uncomfortable waking up in a chair. Hilary squinted her eyes and lifted her hand to shield them from the light. Her back felt sore, and a sharp pain her neck made its presence. She sighed, opened her eyes wide and forced them to look at the daylight which was cascading through the windows. It was day.

The room was almost empty, except Robert, who lay sleeping on the sofa, and Judy and Mr. Dickenson, who were standing by the windows. They both looked out at the glorious morning sun, and she could hear their muffled voices in deep conversation.

Hilary got out of the chair, fully awake, and got on her slightly wobbly feet. Judy and Mr. Dickenson noticed her movements. She took a few steps closer, wishing she had overheard what they'd just been talking about.

"Is…? Have you…?" her unfinished questions made all the sense in the world to them. She saw Judy with tears in her eyes, holding a phone in her hands. Mr. Dickenson was standing with his hands resting on his back, turning around with a small, sad, yet happy smile.

"We've found Max."


	10. Chapter 10

A quick update! We haven't seen that in a while, have we? X)

Anyway! Review if you feel like it. I appreciate any feedback you might have.

Chapter 10

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18__th__, 06:52_

"Can you see them?"

"No, not yet." Tyson leant back from the edge of the snowy cliff. He could see the ground fifty feet below, beneath a path so rugged and narrow he would never have thought of climbing it, no matter how drunk, before they understood they had little to no time left. He felt like his lungs were frozen. He'd been on the edge ever since he and the others woke up in the wreckage almost three hours ago. He was hungry, and horribly tired. The deep cut in his shoulder had stopped bleeding, and he had torn a piece of his t-shirt to use for bandaging the wound on his temple. He knew he had broken at least one rib, for his breathing was short with a dull pain he'd almost gotten used to by now. But none of these things truly mattered here, the only thing he thought about was that he needed to keep moving. If he didn't, he would die; the thick winter jacket was not enough to shield him completely from the cold.

"I don't like this," Kenny said. He was pacing back and forth, creating a small path in the snow. Now and then he took his hands out of his pockets, shook them and blew on them. "Ray should not be alone; he is not well, and that leg of his won't take him far."

"He'll come back," Tyson mumbled. "And he'll find Kai, I know it."

"Do you think he's in shock?"

"Who?"

"Kai. I mean he just woke up, and walked away." Kenny stopped pacing for a moment, like he was listening to something Tyson was unable to hear. Then he answered himself, just like he was used to doing. "No, maybe not. Damn it, someone should have been in there with him."

"I know."

"I don't know how to behave out here." Tyson turned to look at his friend. Kenny had crossed his arms over his chest and stood gazing into the snow below his feet. "I'm not exactly in my right element. And all of this," he looked out over the spectacular view of the snowy mountains. "It's too much. I'm the only one who's not hurt, which puts me in a responsible position. We are one teammate short, and God knows where he is. Probably-"

"Shut up," Tyson whispered through his teeth. Kenny's gaze lingered on him for a while, but he knew it was hard for Tyson to admit that his best friend was without a chance of making it alone. And this knowledge was killing him mentally, knowing he was unable to be there for Max when he had needed him the most. When all of this was over, this was another challenge which could not be as easily disposed of.

"Tyson," Kenny wanted to put a hand on his friends shoulder, but he had forgotten which the injured one was. "I know you don't want to-"

"Kenny, I swear, if your keep pushing this you'll be lying face down in the snow."

"I know, Tyson, and if it makes you feel better, I'll let you. But you have to come to terms with that-"

"Quiet."

"No, I won't-"

"Kenny, shut up, I hear something."

Kenny fell silent. For a moment the only sound was the howling wind in their ears. It had sounded like a human voice. Before Kenny had the time to react, Tyson grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him down in the snow. For a moment he thought Tyson was really going to push him face down into the snow, but a quick look around revealed a still shape only ten feet away. How he hadn't seen them yet, was beyond him. It was a man in his forties, with raven black hair and a very determined expression in his face. He stood by the top of the path leading up the cliff, and little by little he walked down further. A sharp unfamiliar voice broke the silence, and a loud thump made them jump in surprise.

"Kai Hiwatari! I bring greetings from your grandfather!"

Tyson moved as slow as he possibly could, not to make the snow move over the outspring of the cliff and down to the path below. He lay in utter silence, and just watched. Just underneath him stood Ray and Kai, back to back on the path, each facing their own threat. Ray was trying to keep both the black haired man and the edge of the path within sight. Kai was holding one hand over his nose, and Tyson could see his hand was red with blood. On the path below Kai stood a young man with blue eyes and hair so blonde it looked almost white. Both of the strangers wore a heavy black uniform.

Kai removed his hand, he was breathing heavily, and he was a horrible sight as blood had been smeared out over the lower half of his face. Tyson couldn't see his expression from where he lay, but he could hear from his shaking voice that he had been caught by surprise.

"E-Erik?"

"Nice seeing you too," Erik said, still smiling. He came a few steps closer, but made sure Kai wouldn't be able to come near him; since he was at a lower level on the path he was at a disadvantage at the moment. But Tyson knew that the black haired man was not. He was about to reveal himself and shout out for Ray to take a step back, but he was way too late. The older man grabbed Ray's arm in a solid hold and pushed him closer till he held him with one strong arm over his chest. Ray seemed almost powerless. He grimaced from the pain of moving his leg, and a pained yelp escaped his lips. Kai turned around, but far too slow to do anything. Erik stood watching him, measuring him with his gaze.

"P-please," Kai gasped. "Let him go!"

"Why the fuck would I do that? You know why I'm here; you know I have to follow my orders. You were put in this position countless times before you left Moskva.*" He and his colleague shared a glance, and letting go of Ray's arm for a second he pulled out a gun from his belt, which he pointed at the side of Ray's head. Ray froze, stopped struggling, and just stood wide eyed, staring at Kai.

"No no no no, you don't have to do it, and you KNOW THAT!" He shouted the last two words, and Tyson could see a deep anger build up inside him. Kai had always been known for this, especially when doing a battle. It was a kind of anger you could not suppress. Tyson knew that the only thing he wanted at that moment was to tear the other man apart.

"I don't need to know. This is about what I want, and not your idiot of a grandfather. You know this; you have for a long time."

Tyson suddenly made up his mind. He reached inside his pocket, pulled out Dragoon and his launcher, and readied himself.

"I know, Erik. I know," Kai said. "But figuring you got this from Voltaire; you don't even know half of it."

"MY FAMILY IS GONE BECAUSE OF YOU!" Erik was now just as angry as Kai, but whatever Kai's answer, he never had the chance to utter a word. A sharp, agonizing cry silenced them both. Dimitri let go of Ray, who fell to the ground, and clutched his face, where Dragoon's attack ring had left his face almost parted in two. He fell to his knees; Ray barely got out of the way, and kept crying out in desperate pain. For a short second, Erik was paralyzed, and that was all they needed. Kai turned on his heel, helped Ray back on his feet, and with strength he didn't know he had, pushed both Ray and himself up on the top of the cliff. Tyson and Kenny helped him by taking each of Ray's arms and steadied him between them.

"Come on, hurry!" Kenny said, and without looking back they ran through the snow. Ahead, the ground disappeared and became yet another high wall belonging to one of the mountains which had been shielding the small valley from the wind. Here, all sounds became muffled noises. Here, the world disappeared and became a never ending landscape of white.

* * *

_The Beyblade Reseach Center, California, USA – March 18th, 12:45_

There was something out there in a world of nothing. He could not hear it, could not see it; but somehow it had just appeared. He had no idea how long it had been there, or how long he had been without it, but it felt like something he had once known.

He was barely aware of himself. But every second he became a little surer that he existed, and that he was himself. It was a good feeling, like he was walking towards a warm and welcoming fire after hours in the dark. But something held him back. He didn't want to open his eyes; not yet. Right there and then, he was fine. A wonderful feeling of warmth filled him. It was unbelievably amazing. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay this way, for all time, just laying here. For a short moment he disappeared again. He lost all consciousness of himself. He didn't mind. He always knew he would return to this wonderful state of just being. Just existing, without anything else to do than just healing.

But then it came back, and he lost his blissful haven. A sound, far off, blurred and muffled; but a sound nevertheless. Not a voice, not anything man made. He lay wondering for a long time, trying to remember. It was so familiar, but he couldn't collect his thoughts long enough to recognize it properly. This sound grew louder and louder by every minute. Heartbeats. Steady, life-giving heartbeats. He was alive. He was still around.

"Max."

The sound convinced him. Max, himself. Someone could see him, yet he was left in total darkness. It seemed unfair. A familiar feeling filled him. He knew now that if he wanted to, he could move. Just like he'd done before. He moved his feet slowly, because that was where he felt least movement. They were cold. He moved his hand. He could barely feel the movement. And then he felt something entirely different. Something touched his hand. Something warm and living.

With a huge effort of strength, he finally opened his eyes. Just barely. The light felt like fire, and he quickly closed them again. His eyelids felt so heavy, like they had been glued together. But finally he saw. There was a dull light shining somewhere nearby. He looked up into something white. A ceiling. He moved his eyes slightly. A window to his left, curtains shielding him from the outside world. A bedside table. To his right, a door. He looks no further. He was lying in a soft, warm bed, and by the bedside was a chair. Its occupant was asleep, her head resting in her arms leaning on the bedside. Max knew he needed to say something; needed her to wake up. But she was so peaceful. So how could he? He tried moving his facial muscles into a smile, but found he couldn't. This put him off for a moment. A low sound escaped his lips, something between a sigh and a groan.

This was enough for her to wake up. At first she lifted her head slowly, not quite sure where she was and what she was doing there. But then she remembered; he could see the exact moment when realization made her eyes look more determined. And then she froze as she saw him; his eyes half open. He blinked, so not to make her worry.

"Max?" she moved closer, never letting him go with her intense gaze. "Oh, Max!" In the next second she embraced him. He could feel the warmth coming from her, the soft warmth he so loved and missed. He could feel her shaking from crying, and he wanted to say that he was all right. But his voice didn't seem to work properly. She moved away slowly, but held her hands close to his face and looked into his eyes.

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry," she said. "So, so sorry." She was crying like he'd never seen her cry before. Tears of sadness and joy mixed together. Max tried clearing his throat.

"Mom," he said, but it came out slow and weak, like he was talking for the first time in his life.

"I'm here, honey. I'm not going to leave you. My God, I love you so much." She touched his cheek with her soft hand. "You know that, don't you? I love you more than anything."

"You too," he replied. "What is…" His voice cracked, and he started over. "What is happening?"

"You're in California, Max. You're going to be fine."

California. He was remembering this place. The warm sun, the soft sand on the long beaches, and the calm wind. And in one second it all came crashing down on him. It felt physical, like he was crushed by it. The sound of powerful engines running. The feeling of falling, and landing on the hard ground. Voices, screams, people yelling.

"_GET IN THE BACK!"_ Max started breathing heavily. "_GET IN THE BACK OF THE FUCKING PLANE!"_

"Max, calm down. Please, sweetie-"

"Where are they?" Max whispered.

"Honey, don't-"

"WHERE ARE THEY?" Max bolted upright. Something held him back, something weak and helpless. He punched out with his right arm, and the needles connecting him to the intravenous fell from his hands. Judy got up from the chair, and tried to get a hold of her son. But Max ignored her. He was blinded by a rage so intense he was beyond trying to control it. In a second he had one leg out of the bed, before he collapsed on the floor.

"NURSE! PLEASE!" He could hear his mother yell as she came running to the other side of the bed. Max used his feet to push himself away from her. But as he reached for the bedside to pull himself up, he understood. He could not move his left arm. The realization hit him like a hammer, and he cried out in a hoarse scream he had never thought he would be able to utter.

"NO! WHERE ARE THEY? WHERE-" He hit his right fist into the bedside as hard as he possibly could. "-are they?" His eyesight became blurred with tears. He sat leaning against the wall, sobbing and shaking with tears. Something deep inside him was hurt, shattered, and completely destroyed. He felt people around him. They lifted him up, carried him, cared for him. But he ignored them completely. He wanted to sink back into that warm nothingness and stay that way. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to know.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18__th__, 07:06_

"My God," Erik said. He tore a piece from the shirt he wore under the uniform. "Sit still." Dimitri shivered. The boys' beyblade had made a deep wound across his face. It stretched from his hairline on the left side of his face, and down between the eyes, cut across the cheek and ended with almost splitting his upper lip in half. Dimitri had closed his eyes, and grimaced with every bolt of pain.

"How does it look?"

"I think you have to face the fact that you'll never be able to pursue a career in modeling."

"Oh, you little smartass; just wait till my face is back on, I swear."

Erik chuckled, but felt no real amusement. It was a clean cut, so all he needed to do was to make it stop bleeding. "Can't as well wrap in your entire head, can I. Maybe it wouldn't make any difference."

"That's it! Give me that!" Dimitri took the piece of cloth form him and pressed it hard against his wound. They were both sitting at the top of the cliff. Erik could no longer see the four boys. The mountain hid them well in its snow and rocks, and a strange mist seemed to be thickening around them. In not too long, they would lose the trail, and be forced to start over. They didn't have time for this, and they both knew it.

"We should get going," Dimitri said.

"You sure?"

"Erik," he removed the improvised bandage, which was red with blood, and frowned. "I know you hold a grudge against Hiwatari, and I don't blame you, but you need to focus."

Erik looked away with a sigh and started walking away, towards the ocean of snow waiting for them. "I don't need you to tell me this, Dimitri. Let's get going while we can still follow them."

* * *

_The Hiwatari Corporation Building, Moscow, Russia – March 18__th__, 12:34_

It had stopped snowing. The clear blue sky felt empty and endless above the city of Moscow. Her brown ankle boots made the familiar sound against the sidewalk which told anyone nearby that here came a girl who knew what she wanted and where to get it. She had chosen to wear her hair down today, curled and shiny brown. She felt a fresh breeze finding its way through the tall buildings. People seemed more relaxed and in less hurry. Whatever they needed to do, be it work or school, it was worth getting there a little late only to enjoy this one glorious day of peaceful sunshine.

Katya smiled at everyone she passed, just like she used to. She rounded the corner with the strange statue of some former tsar, passed the coffee store, the playground and the tattoo shop. Then there were less and less people, as she made her way to the business part of the city. Here, the buildings were even higher to make room for offices. And the one with the sign "Hiwatari Corporations" was among them. It had twenty two floors, more elevators than she could count, and a million steps worth of stairs. Outside was a fountain, where a few dozen people spent their coffee breaks. She waved at some of them, and then made her way through the huge double doors and found herself standing in the main hall. It was a room filled with people going in and out of doors, some holding files and paper, others in deep conversation. She ignored this, and followed the circular pattern on the floor till she was at the other end where was a wall completely covered in elevators. She snuck in beside a glamorous woman and a strict looking elder man reading a newspaper. The radio was on, and as they moved quickly upward she heard that the sky would stay cloudless for another day, and that Lindsay Lohan was back in jail for something as usual.

The same old 'pling' told her they had hit the seventeenth floor. She exited, as the only one, and followed the brightly lit hall to the end, where was a sliding door. A man held it open for her.

"Good morning, Katya. Off to the office?"

"No, to the break room. I left a report in there yesterday. I'm sure Mr. Hiwatari still want those helicopters sold, and my stupidity is not going to stand in the way for that."

"It's still there, I saw it this morning. See you four, then?"

"Sure thing," she replied with a smile. Katya found the door marked 'Break Room'. She grinned every time she saw that the word 'Break' was crossed out with a thick black pen. Over it was written 'Lazy' instead. Kai had done that on the Christmas party held in the conference room. She still chuckled every time she remembered how drunk he'd gotten; so much actually he had started a serious conversation with a stapler. She opened the door, found the room empty, and dropped her purse on the table which occupied most of the room. On it was a bundle of files. She picked up the one with her own handwriting on it, and was making her way out, when someone opened the door from outside.

She stepped back just in time not to be run down by Frank, who stood in the doorway, his hand clutching the handle, and staring at her like she was a ghost. "Something happened," he said.

"What? Frank, what-?"

"The plane. Mr. Hiwatari never made it to California."

Katya stood in utter silence. "But… Why? Did he change his mind? Is he coming back already?"

"No. No one knows where he is."

"You can't be serious." She was watching him angrily, thinking that Frank was the right person to make such a bad joke. But Frank didn't smile, or grin, or laugh, like he usually did.

"Katya, the plane went down somewhere over the Rocky Mountains."

* * *

_*Norwegian for "Moscow" _


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry about the delay! Here is a new chapter which I think will clear some things up. Review if you have any comments : D**

**Chapter 11**

* * *

_The Beyblade Research Center, California, USA – March 18th, 13:45_

Max was sitting up in his bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows. Someone had pulled the curtains. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, but for some reason he didn't really _feel_ it. It was like he was cold inside, and even the sun couldn't reach it. In his hand he held a simple, rectangular mirror, and now and then he looked into his own face. He looked like he'd used to, but somehow he felt different, which also made him look different, at least to himself. Small cuts and bruises gave his pale face spots of pink; none of them large enough to scar. The doctor thought they came from the fall, when he had hit branches on his way down. He had tried to remember the fall itself, to determine if he had been conscious at all then, but to his great relief he was now sure that something had made him pass out already before he had fallen out of the plane.

"Max? Is it okay if I join you?" Max recognized Mr. Dickenson's voice, and without looking up from the mirror he whispered "Sure". Mr. Dickenson pulled out the chair by the bed and sat down.

"Max, the doctor said you should rest for now, but I cannot delay this any further." Max gave him a sideway glance as Mr. Dickenson reached his hand into a brown envelope and pulled out a small stack of papers, seemingly just printed with photographs.

"The FBI took this case a couple of hours ago, and they have tried to find out how and why this happened. Searchers are being fled to the location where you were found as we speak, so I hope you know we are doing anything we can to find them. The police will ask you the same questions later, but I need to know, Max; what happened?"

His reflection frowned, but Max could barely feel the movement. He looked sideways at the old man, his expression now blank. "Everything went fine until The Rocky Mountains. Kenny and Ray were talking, I think, I was reading, Tyson watching a movie on his iPod, and Kai was sleeping. I remember Ray got out of his seat, probably on his way to the bathroom, and midway he stopped because he heard a sound coming from the engines. The rest of us were busy doing something else and didn't notice before Ray made us aware of it. We woke Kai, and with Ray he knocked on the cockpit door and asked if everything was alright. No one answered, and then they opened it. I was just out of my seat when the plane made a sharp turn and all of us fell to the side. I never saw much, but the plane filled with cold air, so I assume that some kind of door had been opened to the outside."

Max started fingering with a corner of the covers, all the while watching his fingers move; his voice cracked now and then, but now that he had already started, he felt he couldn't stop.

"And then the plane started to fall. The front turned downwards, and we had to grab onto the chairs. From then on, everything was chaos. Kai yelled for us to get back, and stay where we were. Me, Kenny and Tyson, I think, clung onto whatever we could find. Ray was shouting something; I could see him trying to reach Kai, who had stepped into the cockpit. I couldn't see him, but I assume he was trying to reach the steering wheel. Whatever he did, the plane levelled for a little while, before it hit something. That is the last thing I remember. Everything went black, and I woke up alone. It was early in the morning, I think. Very early. And-"

It was harder than he'd thought, describing how he'd felt at that moment when he realised he was alone, injured, with no one to hear or help him. He could still feel a numb echo of the pain. "I knew I was hurt, but the cold was by far the worst. At one point I knew I had to give up, and that's what I did. But then I heard voices, and someone found me."

"Voices? You were found by one man, as far as I know."

"No, this was earlier. There were two men, and they were arguing. I don't remember exactly what about, but I am fairly sure it was about what they should do with me. What saved me was a strange flow of adrenaline, and suddenly I could move. I just ran, and I got ahead of them. But they caught up with me, and one of them shot me." Max bit his bottom lip and frowned. The gunshot wound didn't hurt. Enough painkillers made sure of that. "I can remember bits and pieces after that; like sounds, the cold snow, and one moment when I had a hard time breathing. But-" Max suddenly chuckled. "It was just like lying in bed, waking up way too early just because you're thirsty. It bothers you, but you would much rather sleep than move." He leaned his head back, and felt the soft pillows embrace him. "What are those?"

Mr. Dickenson looked down at the papers. "The police hired a specialist on plane crashes. He said that since you fell out of the plane, the plane went down because of the shift in air pressure. But since you were the only one, the hole couldn't have been that big, or all of you would have fallen out of the plane. And, of course something must have caused it, and it seemed unlikely you met anything that high above the ground which could make such damage. What you just told me supports our theory. Here." He handed Max the papers, and he took them with his good hand. The first showed a picture of a man in his forties, wearing a pilot's uniform and looking rather important.

"Do you recognize any of them?"

Max browsed through the pictures. None seemed familiar. "No, I don't think so. One was in his forties, black hair, and brown eyes. The other was younger, in his late twenties, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Both were wearing-" He interrupted himself. He was looking at one of the last pictures, the picture of an unfamiliar man. It was clear he had not known he was being photographed, for he was not looking into the camera, and based on his surroundings, Max though he was at an airport. The man himself was not important, but behind him, standing in profile view among the crowd, was the black haired man. "Him!" Max said. "He was one of them."

Mr. Dickenson took the picture. "I don't know who that is. I'll have the police do a face scan. Any of the others?"

"No." Max handed him the rest of the pictures. "But my vision was a blur most of the time. I heard their voices though. That guy had a hint of an accent which reminded me of Kai, so I'm sure he's Russian. The other one, I don't know. Clearly not a native English speaker, but he couldn't have been Russian, because then they wouldn't have been speaking English."

"Thank you, Max."

"I don't care what the police or the doctors say. Anything you find out, you tell me."

"I will. I promise."

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 07:33_

"I can't believe it…"

Four tracks of snowy footprints scarred the smooth, white ground. They could no longer see, nor hear, the two pilots. It felt like the rules of nature had changed, and no longer did sound travel through air, nor did eyes see in three dimensions. The world seemed flat, like they were looking at an all-surrounding photo; their voices were sharp and loud. Behind them lay the small valley where they could barely see what had to be the wreckage of the plane, surrounded by tall trees and steep hills. They were headed up one of these hills. They were all warm, sweaty and all out of breath when they finally stopped, watching their trail for the followers. Ray leant one arm over Kenny's shoulder, thus supporting his weight on him instead of his wounded leg. They all looked up when Tyson broke the silence.

"All of this…" He pointed casually at their surroundings. Kai knew what he was about to say, and looked at his teammate with eyes filled with regret. "It was all because of something you have done. You."

"Tyson, please. Let me-"

"YOU, KAI!" Tyson was almost shaking with anger. His jaws were clenched, and angry tears welled up in his eyes. "And it's always you, isn't it." Ray looked from Tyson to Kai.

"Tyson, you are being unfair."

"Max died for you, Kai."

"Tyson! That is enough!"

Kai looked into Tyson's eyes. The wind howled in their ears, and whipped their cheeks red. He suddenly noticed he stood alone, a few feet further behind the other three. "I know," he said, barely loud enough for them all to hear. "I know."

"This is your grandfathers' work, Kai!" Kenny suddenly said. "You have no blame in this."

"But I do." Kai hugged his arms around his chest to shield himself from the cold, although such a task seemed impossible. "Tyson, I swear, I wish-"

"I don't care, Kai. I really don't care." Tyson said, shaking his head.

"Well, I know I do, but this is not the right place to discuss this. We need to find shelter and quick." Ray pulled slightly in Kenny's jacket to urge him to move forward. "See, there?" He pointed into the distance. "That part of the mountain is shielded by the neighboring mountain, so there shouldn't be any snow, and it will be far warmer than here, where we are exposed to hard wind. I suggest we continue the discussion there."

Tyson did not object to that. Kai watched him as they continued to struggle with lifting their already tired legs and dragging them through the snow. He touched his aching nose and saw blood on his glove. The blow had definitely broken his nose, so he had to breathe through his mouth only. He kept looking back at the trail they left behind, and trying to see the ones he knew were following them. He knew then that they should have stayed with the wreckage. If they ever had any chance of making it, that chance died when they left. The terrain was always the same, always white, and the mountainside Ray had pointed out seemed to move away from them. It reminded him of a recurring nightmare he'd had as a child. Moving, walking, running away from someone he knew was following; but no matter how fast he ran, he barely moved. Like walking in slow motion. The sky was gray with clouds, and his sight was blocked by millions of snowflakes. Soon, his teammates were blurry shapes in the white world. He was exhausted, tired, hungry and thirsty, and he knew that his next step would be his last. He knew that many times. And then he realized he could no longer see the others. He was alone. He wanted to call out to them, let them know they had lost him, when something changed. He felt light, like a feather. Like the laws of physics no longer applied to him. He was standing on hard, cold, naked mountain. Behind him was the endless desert of snow, and forward was a mountain and a valley; and in the valley, an ice covered river. Rocks of all sizes covered the landscape, which leveled to high above them, and far beneath them. Ray, Tyson and Kenny sat on the exposed ground, none of them able to utter a word for a long time. Kai managed to remain on his feet for just a second more, before his knees gave up, and hit the ground. He felt no pain as they did so, and he let himself fall forward to lean on his forearms.

"Kai." He recognized Kenny's voice, although it was hoarse. "Ray and I found a place we can sleep."

"How long have I been sitting like this?"

"Uhm… I don't know. Fifteen minutes maybe."

"Seemed shorter." He lifted his head slowly, and opened his eyes. It was strange, not having his vision blocked by snowflakes. A relief. He took Kenny's outstretched hand and let him help him up on his feet. He could see Tyson sitting on a nearby rock trying to blink away the same white flashes of light he knew he was seeing after the snowdesert. Snowblindness was becoming an issue, and they all knew it. Kenny led them on a small natural path further into the valley, which seemed to pierce the mountain and dig itself into the hard stone. A stone roof soon shielded out the gray sky, and Kai welcomed the dark shadows. At once his brain relaxed and urged him to let himself fall into sleep. His steps were becoming more unsteady, and he almost tripped in every single stone in his path; as did Tyson and Kenny. They then stopped where a huge rock was blocking the side of the path that wasn't already covered in mountain. It had probably fallen from the tall mountainside above them some thousands of years ago. Ray was sitting on the ground; his back leaned towards the wall, his arms wrapped around his chest.

"We should get some sleep."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Oh, by all means, stay awake if you want." Tyson lay down, and said no more. All of Kai's senses screamed at him to get some sleep, but he knew better. "You go to sleep, Kenny."

"What, you're not-"

"Not yet, I'm going to look for anything to make a fire."

Kenny gave him a concerned look. "Please don't. If anything happens, there is no one to help you."

"Don't worry. I'll be back in ten minutes." Kai ignored the protest from his tired limbs, and found his way out of the little cave. It was mostly rock and stone, their new surroundings, but down by the frozen river, just barely making it through the cold, was a small area of trees. He could see the water moving underneath the ice, a temptation too strong for him to ignore. He broke the ice with the largest liftable stone he could find, and swallowed handful after handful. He drank till he knew he could take no more, and started looking for wood. The trees were dry, and after breaking off an armful of branches he made his way back. They were all lying on the floor, sleeping. It took him about an hour of frustration before he managed to make a spark with two rocks. This was something he'd once learned, and was confident he could make fire, even though it would take time. To his great relief, and pride, a small fire lit up the cave a couple of minutes later, and two more trips to the lake resulted in a nice pile of wood to keep it going. He eagerly took of his gloves using his teeth, and kept them outstretched by the fire. The warmth filling his entire body was almost shocking. Minutes passed, his eyelids felt heavier and heavier, till he dozed off by the small fire.

When next he woke, it was from the sound of voices. This worried him for a few seconds, as he could very well remember the sound of engines running, and the same voices speaking in a sort of panic you would not want to wake up to. He considered going back to sleep, but whatever surface he was lying on was way too uncomfortable for such. He slowly opened his eyes, and looked straight into the flames of the fire he'd made.

"Good morning, Kai." Ray yawned. Kai sat up, and immediately felt horrible. Apparently he looked horrible too, judging by the look on Kenny's face. "I slept in a cave, you idiot," he said before slapping him over the head. "How long was I out?"

"Don't know." Ray said, and pointed at what little they could see of the sky, which was pitch black and covered in stars. "You should know that the two men following us passed this valley only an hour ago."

"What?"

"Tyson heard them when he was down by the river to drink. We think they kept going."

"Did you hear what they said?" Kai asked Tyson, who was trying to get his feet warm.

"They didn't say anything. They just walked across the valley and out of sight."

Ray caught Kai's look, and held it. "This leads us to something we've been discussing since then. You owe us some information, captain." Tyson and Kenny all turned to him, and the first nodded in silence, waiting. Kai looked into the fire and closed his eyes for a moment. He tried to find the right words, but memories and all kinds of feelings mixed up into a story he felt he shouldn't tell. Not only would it put him in a vulnerable place, but it also concerned a lot of other people. People he'd rather not talk about. But whatever reasons he thought for not telling, were all weak and unreasonable.

"Ask, and I'll tell." He finally said.

Tyson was the first to open his mouth, as usual. "Who are they?"

Kai frowned and thought back, further than his beyblading years. "The eldest is Dimitri Barsukov. I remember him from sometime after I left The Abbey. I was living just outside of Moscow then, at the family estate. Voltai- my grandfather had invited many of the country's richest and most powerful families for a meeting of some sort. As his grandson I had to attend. Now, I didn't really pay much attention to whatever political matters they were discussing. But it is a social manner to memorize the names of your guests, and that is something my grandfather takes very seriously. I think he came from a family of some political importance, but he never said much during dinner. Only when they served coffee did he and my grandfather have a quiet discussion about something. I knew they were acquainted, but I never thought they worked together." Kai threw another branch on the fire. "As for the other one, him I met in The Abbey on several occasions. Erik… Aasgaard, is his name. Norwegian, I think. He came to The Abbey a couple of years before me, and did quite well. He was the one you would have to fight if you wanted to climb higher in ranks."

"So, he's a beyblader."

"No, I mean fight, as in physical combat. Few won. Although I seem to recall that he had a bitbeast. A lynx."

"And his accusation?"

"What do you mean?"

"On the cliff, Kai, he accused you of being the reason for the death of his family. Is this true?" Kenny looked at him, concerned and slightly surprised.

Kai cleared his throat. "That all began when I was just a child, and it was beyond my control. My father was one of the rising stars in Russia. He had won the Russian championship, although at that time World Championships did not exist, so he had suddenly become some sort of a celebrity over night. He was happily unaware of his father's work, and when he inherited the family bitbeast, Dranzer, Voltaire found it necessary to test their combined power, but without him knowing. So he entered one of his own into the next championship, someone he knew would be a match against him. His name was Joachim Aasgaard, a notorious blader and the three time winner of the Scandinavian tournament; he was a legend in Europe. He and my father became enemies, and the media loved it. And when the time finally came for them to meet in battle, in the finals, things went wrong. No one had ever seen a battle like it; it is still considered one of the most violent beyblade battles in history. My father was hit by an attack from Aasgaard's bitbeast, but fought on for a few more minutes, and it all ended in an explosion. My father survived, but Joachim Aasgaard did not. He was too close to the battle. Some days later, though, my father died in the hospital. I can remember being too young to really understand why my mother cried. It was all covered by the media, and a few months later, she just couldn't take it anymore. She said she needed some time to herself, and left; I don't know where to. But she never came back. I was brought to The Abbey, and told that she had died in a car accident somewhere further north. A few years later I learned that Joachim Aasgaard's wife had killed herself some days after his death, leaving two children behind; a boy and a girl. I never met her, but Erik I remember all too well. I wasn't sure how much he knew about what had happened, though. I never blamed him. Nor his father."

The silence was deep as he finished. Kai kept watching the flames shift and dance in the fire.

"I'm sorry, Kai." Ray whispered.

"It's a long time ago, and I've long stopped thinking about it." He lifted his gaze and met theirs with a strong expression. "It seems my dear grandfather told him a few things which inspired him to hunt me down. Although I don't think this is all about me. We have all become a nuisance to the old man. Why he chose to wait this long, now that is a mystery."


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm terribly sorry for the long wait… again. But, here you go. An extra long chapter.**

**Chapter 12**

* * *

_Moscow, 23 years ago_

"Can you see it?

"No, dad; your hand is in the way!"

"Alright, alright," Alexander Hiwatari chuckled and moved his hand. His little son gazed out the window, to where he was pointing, and the stars reflected in his wide eyes. "Is it that there? But there isn't just one. They look like grains of sugar on a black table."

"They are the Pleiades; a small group of stars. I think they are the most beautiful of them all."

"They are pretty." Alexander smiled gently at his son. He was almost five years old. The car drove slowly, as he had requested. The city night was so busy and bright with lights from the streets and lamps in apartment windows; the stars would have been hard to see, hadn't it been a particularly clear night. He was dressed in a black suit which he knew was way too thin for the cold winter air. Looking at his son he saw beyond whatever needless worries this world tried to put on him. He looked so new, like a newborn star gazing down on the earth for the very first time.

"They are called the Pleiades after a very old story. Seven little sisters were playing in a deep forest, singing with the birds and laughing with the wind. They were wearing white dresses, with ribbons in their hair. But a sound from the forest scared them, and they could hear Orion, the great hunter, coming their way. They were frightened; Zeus transformed them into doves, so that they could fly home."

"What happened to Orion?" The little boy waved his hand slowly, as a greeting to the seven sisters far above him.

"Oh, he's up there somewhere too." He closed his eyes, enjoying the precious moment of quiet amazement and understanding he knew his son was feeling.

The car suddenly stopped, and they were both almost blinded by flashing lights. A huge crowd stood outside, on either side of the door, waiting to meet them. Alexander sighed, lifted up his son, and opened the door. Voices were all they heard, and people all they saw. Shining gold and glittering fabrics, mixed in all colors imaginable, lit up by the flashes of maybe a hundred cameras. As he walked down the open isle, towards the doors of the great Beyarena, he again caught the gaze of his son. He had starlight in his hair.

"Dad."

"Yes?"

"Don't scare the doves away."

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 19:03_

"_Don't scare the doves away."_

His lips shaped the words as he remembered them. It was getting colder, so cold he could feel it like stings of needles on his skin. A shivering breeze from the high peaks brought thousands of snowflakes like rain down over the tiny valley. The sky which had been gray with clouds all day was now clear and lit with stars. Their light reflected in the snow and the ice covered river. Kai breathed in and out, slower and deeper than he used to. His nose was still hurting from the blow to his face, but the aching in his other limbs caused by the crash was not as piercing as before. It felt dull, like a pulsating flow within him that bothered him, but no longer pained him.

He was standing by the entrance to the cave, which wasn't really a cave, just a deepening in the mountainside which was partly covered in rocks. He had slept for quite a few hours and now felt a lot better, although he would feel the exhaustion for many days. The calm light of a fire danced across the cold stone; the only manmade light source for miles and miles around. He could hear the distant voices of Kenny and Tyson who were down by the river. The shadow of Ray fell across the ground, and told him of his every movement.

"What are you thinking of?" Ray suddenly asked, and Kai snapped out of his dreaming. A strange sense of calm and warmth came over him, something he hadn't felt at all since sleeping in the plane.

"Too many things."

"I see what you mean." Ray sat in silence for a few minutes, and Kai knew he was thinking about what to say next. It was something he had noticed about Ray. He was a chatty person, but often afraid to be too chatty, which made him insecure in conversations. He couldn't remember that side of him from the past.

"You have that look again," Kai almost whispered, but Ray still heard.

"What look?" His shadow moved slightly, so that Kai knew he was being watched.

"You seem distracted, like you are far away. It sometimes looks like you are shutting down; like your mind is at rest by the thought of her. Mariah." Silence followed this last word. The shadow moved no more; the only calm element in a sea of dancing flames.

"She wasn't supposed to be there at the union, was she?" Kai knew he shouldn't press the matter further, but felt he couldn't resist. There was something here, something which needed to be said and heard. Something Ray needed to share. The shadow suddenly looked shapeless. Ray was looking into the fire, his arms hugging his legs, and resting his chin between his knees.

"She's dying." He finally whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse. "I didn't want to leave her, but Lee convinced me she was okay for now. I have regretted it ever since getting on the plane from China. She won't make it. No matter what I do, no matter what I try, she will still be gone in a few months, maybe weeks. And I keep thinking that when she is, I will look back at this very moment, here trapped and waiting to starve or freeze to death, and I will think that despite all of this, it will still be a happier time than what awaits. Because at this moment, she still exists somewhere. Safe, warm and asleep. By the time I'm home, she will have left me. She will be gone."

Kai heard Tyson's voice growing louder, and saw them coming from the river. "Ray." Kai held his breath for a second, listening and watching. There was something wrong with Tyson. He could see it, even though he could no longer hear him. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Kai let his hands rest on the cold walls of the cave, feeling a slight tremble in the stone. "No. Wait. Tyson!" Ray jumped to his feet, surprisingly easy, and followed Kai to the entrance as he locked eyes with Tyson and Kenny below them. "Kenny! Get out of there!"

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 19:06_

His hand was steady as a rock, his grip tightened around the gun as he aimed. He stood far above his target; on a small outspring in the mountain wall, looking down at the small valley. The howling wind played in his hair. He breathed in, and out, calming himself. Still, very still. Clear your mind, and let your instinct aim for you.

"No. Wait." A voice from far beneath him, under the mountain. His target moved slightly, but not enough. "Tyson! Kenny! Get out of there!" He gently pushed the rigger with his finger, the gun jumped in his hand as the shot was fired, almost startling him. Erik didn't move for a few seconds, as the sound of the gunshot echoed from the mountain walls.

Erik gave a signal with the hand not holding the gun, and in one swift movement, both him and Dimitri jumped. His feet met the steep wall of the mountain, and with one hand slightly touching the snowy surface behind him, he slid safely down the wall. The much heavier Dimitri landed before him on the top of the huge rock which served as the outer wall of the cave. Erik lifted his right hand, so that the gun was pointing towards the sky.

"HIWATARI!" he shouted, loud enough to create yet another echo. Silence fell, with the howling wind as the only source of sound. Two of the boys were in his sight, but none of them mattered much to him. A faint sound from underneath him drew his attention to the cave entrance. Kai Hiwatari stepped outside, walking as casually as if he was just taking a stroll. His face was blank, leaving no chance to guess what he might be thinking. All the time he looked up into his eyes.

* * *

_Moscow, 23 years ago_

A huge crowd was gathering outside the most popular stadium in Moscow. Light was shining and reflecting everywhere, from flashes of cameras to the headlights of cars pulling up in front of the entrance doors. They were open, but revealed very little of what waited inside. A black limousine stopped in front of the crowd, the driver opened the back door, and an elegant young man carrying a small child on his arm greeted the waiting fans and journalists with a wave of his hand and a mesmerizing smile.

"That's him?" Just inside the main hall of the stadium stood two men, one of them holding the hand of a young boy. "I honestly don't know why you want me to do this, Mr. Hiwatari. He's your son."

"Don't you worry about the details, Mr. Aasgaard. That is none of your concern," Answered the elder of the two men. "Besides, this will all go in your favor."

"But he has a child!" The youngest man looked out of the glass doors, watching him with growing concern as he came closer. "He- He will be watching the battle. I can't." Aasgaard frowned in anger and looked down at his own son. "I can't do it. It would be against everything I believe in."

"Think about what you're saying. You know the alternative."

"I do." Aasgaard lifted his son up, and locked eyes with the older man. His son would grow to look just like himself one day; hair like gold, and eyes like the sea. "You are a cruel, merciless bastard, Voltaire Hiwatari; but I will do what you ask of me. Just know this: one day this will all be thrown back in your face, and I hope I will be there that day to see you fall for good." He walked past him, not offering him another look, and just then, so did Alexander Hiwatari, holding his son Kai, like he was holding Erik. It passed in just a short second, but it felt like time halted just a little. The voices of the crowd faded, and the flashes of cameras almost blinded them as their eyes met. Then they both looked away.

"You won't." Voltaire whispered.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 19:07_

"I'm here, Erik." Kai said, his voice hoarse with anger.

"NO!" They both turned to see Tyson standing with his hands clenched into fists. Kai felt his heart skip a beat when he noticed Kenny was lying on the ground, motionless. "That is enough! YOU!" Tyson pointed at Erik, range making his hand shake. "You, me. Here, right now! I don't give a fuck about whatever was done to you, you won't be a day older! Now take out your blade!"

Kai could sense Ray behind him, still sitting in front of the fire, listening. He stood completely still, watching Erik's movements, while mentally begging Tyson to shut up. The wind was picking up speed. Soon, hearing anything would be difficult.

"Tyson Granger, am I right?" asked Erik. "You can put your Dragoon down, I'm not interested."

"Wait, what?" Tyson asked in surprise. "There has only been one reason for that old bastard to come after us. Our bitbeasts; it's always been about our bitbeasts. And now you're telling me he is no longer interested? You're kidding, right?"

Kai looked from Tyson, and down at the ground, where Kenny was barely visible in the snow. His hair swayed with the wind, but he was otherwise motionless. Ray was on his feet, and half hidden behind the wall of the cave. His eyes were fixed upwards, to the roof of the cave, where Erik was standing. His voice sounded faded and weak through the massive stone.

"I'm not," Erik said. Then he lowered his gun, sighed and frowned. "Aren't you tired? All these years, you've been running away from this threat. It might not have seemed like it, but you know this to be true. This hunt is not going to stop unless one of you ends it for good. The old man is just doing you a favor. I mean, what would you be without your precious bitbeasts, anyway?"

"So, you're just here to kill us aren't you?" Tyson shivered of cold and anger. "You have already taken one of us. Don't expect us to welcome the same fate."

"One?" Erik chuckled. "Sorry, buddy, but it would seem I'm almost half way already."

"That's where you're WRONG!" Tyson was knocked to the ground in a wave of snow, as Kenny suddenly jumped to his feet and snapped the blade out of his hand. "Go to hell, you bastard!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, and pointed the bitbeast at the top of the cave. "DRAGOON!" Before Erik could fire a single bullet, the wind picked up speed and whipped the snow into a storm, covering the entire valley. Kai grabbed Ray's arm just in time for them both to get out of the way. Tyson watched in wonder as all vision blurred into white. Then, suddenly, the wind stopped. Millions of snowflakes fell down on them, leaving the air cold and clear. He covered his eyes behind one arm, and didn't open them until all was calm and quiet. The cave was gone, covered in snow. He could just faintly see Ray's black hair and Kai's dark jacket somewhere to the right. Just in front of him stood Kenny, still holding Dragoon.

"Shame," Kenny whispered.

* * *

_Moscow, 23 years ago_

The roar of the crowd filled his ears. He sat safely between his mother and his grandfather, and never had he felt so small. He was nothing, just one among thousands. And his voice dared not join theirs in the thunder of yells and shouts. It mixed into a wall of sound behind him, around him, and inside him. But the true eye of the storm was right in front of him. The stadium was dome shaped, the ceiling held up by distant columns, and white like a castle in a dream. Two lone men stood on each their side of a huge, basic beydish. One of them was his father. The man was tall, strong and had a faint smile on his face. His eyes held the kind of pride and wonder you find in yourself when you gaze at the stars, or when you stand in front of the ocean, and you know that even though you are small in comparison, you can move, you can feel, you can do whatever you want.

The other was a man with short, blonde hair, and eyes like blue silk. He was not smiling, like his father did. He was cold, just like his father was warm. The commentator's voice echoed across the stadium, starting the battle with "Three…. Two….. ONE!"

"Go, Dranzer!" His father called, and the blade attacked the minute it hit the dish. "Tjyrna, take him!" The other man yelled, and the two blades were locked in battle. Kai sat completely still, his eyes fixed on his father. He was gritting his teeth, his hands shaking. But he never looked away. His opponent stood calm, like he was a part of the audience, and not the one fighting. His bitbeast, Tjyrna, was like a blur of movement and color. Kai could see the strong and simple lines of a great lynx; hear the claws tearing at the bird, and Dranzer's beak snapping back.

Kai saw it long before even his father knew what was about to happen. He grabbed his mother's hand, his eyes wide with horror. "Stop them! Stop them NOW!"

The blonde man looked up at his opponent. And then he said something, something which would be forever lost in the heat of the battle. Kai got to his feet and started running towards his father. He knew now. Kai could see the realization in his eyes, and time was moving too fast to follow. Death is silent. And silence fell over them, fading out the loud noises of the crowd. The great lynx shot forward, crushing Dranzer's defence. The blue blade flew into the air.

"No, DON'T!" Kai shouted. The lynx became a shadow, or a ray of light, it was impossible to tell, and shot right through his father's chest. The bitbeast vanished immediately. And no sound remained. The crowd sat frozen in shock, and when the blue blade fell to the ground in hundred little pieces, it echoed throughout the entire stadium. Kai stopped halfway to the dish, his mother standing right behind him. His father did not move. He stood like paralyzed, his eyes wide and mouth half open with surprise. "Dad?" Kai whispered.

The crowd awoke from its paralyzed sleep when a small river of blood fell on the floor by his feet. But to Kai, all that became unimportant. Someone cried, someone gasped in horror, and someone called out for a doctor or an ambulance. His father lifted a hand to touch his chest, right where the bitbeast had shot right through him. There was no mark, no traces left of what had happened. He fell to his knees, and to Kai, the fall seemed endless.

"Tilgi meg," came a soft whisper. On the other side of the dish lay the blonde man on the ground, shaking and gasping for breath. "Kampen er over." He closed his eyes, and moved no more.*

Kai ran up the stairs to the dish and fell to his knees by his father's side. "Dad! Dad, please! Say something!"

"Where is that ambulance? Come on, hurry"

"Dad?" He laid a small hand on his shoulder. He was suddenly surrounded by a crowd of people, and rough hands pushed him aside. His tiny hand left the warmth of his father, and he disappeared out of sight.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 19:14_

"Shame," Kenny whispered.

On the roof of the cave stood Erik still, his hand lifted. A small light shone in the palm of his hand, and the wind seemed to avoid it. Both he and Dimitri stood unharmed.

"Fool," he said, now angry. "Did you really believe that-?" A slight tremble in the ground silenced him. They could feel it through the snow. Tyson lifted his eyes to the mountain, his wide eyes reflecting the white shine of the snow. "Kenny. The mountain."

A roar filled the air. It looked like the mountain moved, for the first time in millions of years, and shook off the white covers. Snow started falling, and falling. It filled the air, it moved with a speed none of them could ever hope to match. He saw Kai and Ray disappear into the white, saw Kenny trying to reach him before he was swallowed, and Erik who tried shielding himself with the small bitchip resting in his hand. Then, it came over him like a tsunami. It filled his lungs, snuck into his clothes, and lifted him off his feet. It felt like being pierced by thousands of little needles made out of ice. And he could do nothing to stop it.

Something gripped his hand. Something ice cold, but strong. "Tyson, hold on." It was like riding the wind. He was conscious enough to wonder how deep the valley really was, when he felt a sudden change. Something even colder than the snow met him from underneath. He remembered just when he lost consciousness. "The river."

"_Don't scare the doves away."_

* * *

* Translation: "Forgive me. The battle is over."

**I will try to update a bit faster, I promise.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA - __March 18th, 19:16_

It was just like being a kid who had just learned how to swim, and was trying to hold his head under water for the first time. He kept his eyes shut, and bit his lip so he wouldn't scream from the piercing sensation of being surrounded entirely by snow. It crushed him, like a wave lifting him off his feet. There was no way he could control it. He tried moving his arms and legs to make sure he wouldn't end up side down, but there was nothing he could do, other than wait for it to stop. And it did, eventually. He was all out of breath, and the sudden panic made him forget everything he could have possibly known about how to save oneself from being buried alive. His arms felt so heavy, but with strength he didn't knew he had, he reached upwards and tried to feel for something else than the cold, wet world surrounding him. Small pieces of ice cut into his hands. His chest burned with lack of oxygen, and desperate for air, he did the one thing he knew would definitely take his life. He inhaled. Instead of air, only water and shards of ice filled his mouth. It felt like the ice filled him from head to toe, drowned him, and strangled him. Suddenly he felt like he was moving, though he couldn't remember how to. There was a sudden change in pressure, and a sharp wind pierced him like a dagger. He felt water freeze on his bare skin.

"K-Kai?" A weak voice sounded from just above him. He recognized it as Ray's voice. It had lost all strength Kai was used to hearing, the word only a half hearted whisper, like it pained its owner to utter it. "Breathe…"

He was fading away. Either Ray or himself, it didn't really matter. He felt cold hands on his face, the chilling sound of ice scraping against ice, and Ray sobbing somewhere in a place far away. He was suddenly very aware of his heart. It beat steadily and hard like a drum, and best of all: it was still warm. Compared to his face, his hands or his feet, it blazed with a fire so comforting and powerful he wondered how it was possible he could ever die from exposure. But he would. There was no way out of it. But suddenly he felt a hard punch on his chest, like someone was hitting him with a hammer. He inhaled, for the first time in what felt like hours, and at once regretted doing so. If he hadn't, he could have stayed in his own little world, listening to his heart until it stopped beating; but he sucked in mouthful after mouthful of air so cold he felt like his lungs were exploding. Finally he opened his eyes. His eyelashes were wet and quickly turning into ice, making the parting quite difficult. He looked up, and realized he was lying with his head in Ray's lap. Above him was a pair of brown eyes looking down at him. His skin was covered in a thin layer of ice, his lips blue and his hair wet.

"I can't…" Ray tried to speak, but his voice cracked and faded. Kai wanted to tell him he didn't have to say anything, but there was no way he could sum up the energy to utter a word. "I can't find them." Ray said. "I can't…" The words turned into a silent cry, and his eyes closed shut in a painful grimace before he lowered his head and covered his face with his hands. Kai looked up at his blue fingers and waited for them to part.

"It doesn't matter…" Kai whispered. His upper lip split, but he felt no blood. "Look at us." Ray removed his hands and looked down at him. "We are at the end of the world." Kai smiled.

Ray leaned closer, as if trying to shield Kai from the wind. "Do you remember that day on the lake? It's been more than ten years, but I can still remember the dead look in your eyes. You have it now."

"Hn. You guys always seemed to drag me back down to earth, didn't you?"

"Y-yes. But this time, we are standing on the shattered ice with you."

"Fools." Kai slowly closed his eyes. As he did, he looked down at himself. Half of his body was still buried by snow. His right hand lay on top of his chest, and hadn't he seen it, he would never have known, for he could no longer feel it. "Ray… There is no need to wake Tyson up for training. You won't make it anyway. That kid could sleep till the end of times."

A soft sob came from somewhere above him. He closed out the white world around him, and welcomed the soft black which felt like silk against his eyes. It was a good death, wasn't it; something out of the ordinary. Not in a million years would he have though that this was how he would go. But he didn't hurt anymore, and he felt Ray's slow heartbeat close by, that had to count for something. He was tired, no exhausted. He knew that once he fell asleep, he would not wake up. But maybe he was lucky enough to dream one last dream before he died. About something calming and dear to him; something he hadn't seen in a very long time. Not something blurry and absurd which didn't make sense, but one of those dreams where you know that you are dreaming, and you can control it. A tiny life within the last seconds of a life. And whatever waited ahead, was just the next extraordinary adventure.

"….and then he seemed to suddenly change his mind, leapt forward, and let us help him up from the sinking ice."

His first thought was that he had never gotten his last dream. Ray was still with him, although further away than before. And his voice seemed less weak. "I did it just to shut you up." Kai whispered. Ray fell quiet, and he heard sudden movement all around him. He slowly opened his eyes, and was met with a strange kind of darkness, but only till he realized that whatever little light there was, was completely blocked out by Ray who was sitting right next to him.

"You can't be serious," Kai said. "We survived that? That is just… unfair."

"Well, you know," Ray whispered. "Whatever doesn't kill you, just makes you-"

"A heck of a lot colder," he heard Tyson say. Kai moved his head slowly, still feeling weighed down by a mountainside of snow. It was dark, and surprisingly warm. He looked around with big eyes, a thousand shifting lights reflected in them. Below him was the icy ground, and the valley stood tall and dark around him like before. But in wonder, he reached out his hand to touch the water like substance which shielded them from the wind, like a tent. The light from the moon made it shine and shimmer like the reflection of waves on the underside of a docking boat. He was warmer than he had been since the airport, his clothes dry, and his hair free of snow. Just in front of him sat Tyson, one hand supporting his weight, the other clutching something tiny and radiant. Ray helped him up in a sitting position, and one glance told him of their strange situation. Behind Tyson lay three people, all of them seemingly asleep.

Kai looked at Tyson for an explanation. He seemed exhausted and worn down, but determined to stay awake. "I'm not too sure myself," he said, his voice a mere whisper. "It was all just..." his voice faded, and he voiced the word 'luck'. "After, when the snow came, I felt someone close by and... and I thought it might be Kenny because he was standing next to me before." Tyson looked over his shoulder at the three people behind him. Kai saw Tyson had tucked his jacket under Kenny's head, and behind him were both Erik and Dimitri with their hands bound, both unconscious.

"But it turned out to be Erik," Tyson said. "And in the last minute I remembered him trying to shield himself from the snow with his bitbeast." He opened his hand, and there they saw a bitchip, currently so bright they couldn't see much of it. It held the same light blue colour as the water tent. "Apparently she wanted to save her master from harm."

Kai needed a minute to take it all in. "How long was I out?"

"Only about ten minutes," Ray said. Kai looked at them both with growing concern.

"I suppose this is the moment of bad news," he murmured. Ray nodded towards Kenny. "None of us know much about this stuff, Kai. He was hit in the left shoulder. We bound it as well as we could, and the bleeding seems to have stopped for now, but..." Ray exchanged a glance with Tyson. "I'd say he's only got about one to two hours."

What can you say to that? He fought a strange battle with himself. He wanted to sit by Kenny's side, maybe try to help him in any way he could, but... What chance would they have anyway? He'd been ready to die. And now what? What in this haunting silence was meant to help, to sooth and comfort him? It wouldn't last, it couldn't. "And what about you two?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Really," Tyson said, a faint smile on his lips. "Or, better. I've had a terrible headache, but it's not as bad as it was. I'm more concerned about this..." He pushed away the bangs covering his forehead, and revealed a bloody cut just beneath his hairline. It wasn't very deep, but wide, and an ugly yellowish colour had started tainting the skin around it. "And this..." He showed them his left arm, where a torn piece of fabric was bandaged around a very deep cut which ran all the way down the underside of his arm. "But the cold was the worst, believe me."

"Well, I'm sorry to say I won't be going anywhere," Ray said. Kai looked at his leg, and remembered him saying it had been crushed between the seats on the plane during the crash. It was no longer bleeding, but full of gashes and bruises, and damaged by the cold.

"And them?" Kai nodded towards the two men next to Kenny.

Tyson snorted in sudden anger. "Who gives a damn?"

"I checked them over," Ray said. "The older guy won't make it; he was crushed by the snow. I'm not sure if he's still alive or not. The other one made it, but only because he was holding the bitchip which eventually saved us all. I think he hit a rock or something when the first snow wave hit us, because he's got a deep wound across his back. I bandaged it quickly, but there isn't much hope for him. As for you, I'm worried about that..." Ray pointed at Kai's neck. He felt the area with his fingers, and found a very basic bandage tied around it. "It was bleeding quite heavily before, and we were starting to think we couldn't fix it. You're not feeling it now because you're still a bit too cold."

Kai stroked the bandage, and felt his skin sting, and the fabric felt hard from dried blood. He was glad he couldn't see it. Looking himself over, he found several cuts on his chest and hands, an enormous bruise on his right arm, and a stinging pain in his side. A gentle push with his fingers told him of a broken rib. Tyson and Ray saw to Kenny, and he sat by himself for a few minutes, feeling more and more lightheaded by the second.

If they were to do something, it had to be done now. But what could they do without walking through endless mountains waist high in snow? Ray would never be able to do it. Him and Tyson, maybe, for a few miles, but what good would that do? He looked over at Erik. He was breathing heavily, and flinching in his disturbed sleep, like he was having a nightmare. Kai moved slowly and painfully over to his side.

Gently, he placed a warm hand on his forehead, which was cold and sweaty with fever. Erik had not been far from consciousness, for he opened his eyes slowly by his touch. They were unfocused, and it took him some time to understand what he was seeing. Realization hit him, and a hint of surprise.

"Hi, Erik," said Kai. They looked at each other in silence. He could feel Tyson and Ray watching them. "I imagine you're not feeling too good, are you? Good. Then, you can't resist." He opened up his jacket, and reached for the necklace he had seen underneath his scarf. It snapped around his neck, and Kai was suddenly feeling a warm, familiar presence. Looking down, he couldn't help but smile as he saw Draciel's bitchip lying in his palm. Tyson exhaled sharply, and Ray held him back, not quite sure if his friend was going to throw himself at Erik in anger. Kai handed the necklace to Tyson, who held it firmly, like he was protecting it from any danger which dared threaten it. Kai was about to move his hand away, when it brushed against Erik's jacket.

"You stripped them of all weapons, didn't you?" he asked Ray without looking at him; he was too busy opening a hidden pocket where he had felt something hard and metal made.

"Of course I did," Ray replied. Kai pulled out what he found, and for a short second, everyone fell quiet and could only stare.

"Is that... Dizzy?" Tyson asked.

"No. It's our ticket home."

* * *

_The Beyblade Research Center, California, USA – March 18th, 18:59_

Hair flew everywhere, and her long summer dress became a white sail against the fading blue evening sky. She felt embraced and warm in this wind; pushed and pulled to all sides, yet steady like an oak in a summer storm. Her ears were filled with noises, to the point where she wanted to cover them with her hands, but decided not to. To block this reality out, was to look away from the solution of everything. The helicopter hovered over them for a second, then flew away. The first of many. And far too late.

"I'm not quite sure how to say this," she whispered, and the wind carried her voice into the dark, where no one could hear. "I've never been sure. But that doesn't matter anymore. For the first time in my life, I'm just going to say it. The unfinished speech which should have taken me an entire lifetime to complete. But here it is, the simple and basic truth. Don't let them come back without you. Don't let me run towards your rescuers only to find them empty handed. Don't come back only as a faint memory. Don't give up now.

Don't give up now."

* * *

**Trust me; I can't believe it either.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

_The Beyblade Research Center, California, USA – March 18th, 19:30_

Something somewhere reminded him that he existed. His world was reduced to the soft touch of clean fabric, like a cocoon surrounding him, hugging him, and keeping him safe. He welcomed the darkness behind his eyelids. But though his body lay as if asleep, a storm of thoughts raged inside his head. Strange images flashed before his eyes, and sounds he could barely remember. After a while, he'd had enough. He sat up, moved the duvet, and let his warm feet touch the cold marble floor. For a second he enjoyed the cooling sensation, before he got up, his head low and hair messy. That was when he remembered he had nowhere to go. He'd been told to stay in his room, to rest and regain strength.

Strange machines filled the room. Every tiny red light, or beeping noise seemed enhanced somehow, becoming loud in his ears and bring in his eyes. He tried seeing beyond the wires and monitors, and in the far end of the room he noticed something he might recognise.

The fingertips of his right hand moved across the end of the bed for support, and each step felt like a leap, his muscles still shivering.

Someone was in the room with him. It was a young man staring at him through the dark room, as he got closer. He was dressed in only a white t-shirt and boxers, his blonde hair messy and dirty. Bandages seemed to be the only thing holding him together. His blue eyes were dark and dull, his skin grey and lifeless, his body thin and suddenly cold.

Max reached out his right hand and touched his reflection. The man in the mirror seemed exhausted. He stared for a long while at his left arm, wrapped in bandages and supported with a sling around his neck. It was just there. No matter how much he wanted to, he could not move it. Useless.

Without thinking, he turned around, not bearing to look at himself anymore, and walked over to the door. It opened the moment he put his hand on the doorknob, and revealed a dimly lit hallway. His naked feet felt strangely weak and fragile against the hard floor, like they would break and he would fall. He came to the end of the hall and into a bigger room which looked a bit like one of those waiting-rooms you could find in a hospital, before he heard sings of life. Voices could be heard coming from somewhere far away, behind many closed doors and many large rooms.

Someone had been pointing a gun at him. The wind had whipped snow into the air, making it hard to see. Max stood for a while in the waiting-room, feeling the cold creep up his legs. Why was he alone? Why was he always alone?

He'd fallen. He remembered a moment of being surrounded by nothing but air. His feet led him away from the room, in the direction of the voices. Other sounds mixed with them. The steady beating of his heart, far away sirens wailing, thick boots like thunder on the floor. Lights broke the darkness, blinded him and made him stop, door wide open, his hand still on the handle.

He couldn't move. Why would someone point a gun at him? He would have died anyway. The mountains had already claimed him. Max leaned his head on the door frame, his knees bent and let him slide slowly down until he sat on the floor. The mountain had let him go. The lights transformed his world from warm comfort to a confusing blur. And that was when it happened. At that moment he had no other choice but to let all walls and masks fall, and with his hand over his face, sobbed like a child. He screamed into his palm, and cared nothing for the hundreds of hot tears which streamed like rivers down his cheeks. His body ached from the strain, his stomach hurt and his throat felt dry. He hardly noticed the comforting hands lifting him to his feet. They felt like light feathers, and once more, the only thing around him was warm fabric.

"We're bringing them home, Maxy." someone said from far away. "Don't you worry, sweetie. They will be here when you wake up. Now sleep."

"Who are you?" Max whispered. He could barely see through the raging wind.

"It doesn't really matter", said the blonde man, pointing his gun down at Max's chest. The gunshot shattered the mirror into a thousand pieces. They flew in every direction; pierced walls and reflected the lights from the monitors, if only for a short second. The warm bed became cold air, and marble under his feet. Max looked up slowly, and saw hot blood run down his fist, mixed with tiny pieces of glass. He stood like that, with his fist against the broken mirror, until his hand slid down.

"Useless," he whispered.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA - March 18th, 19:29_

"It's useless!" Tyson yelled through the wind, and stopped to let Ray down from his back. "We can't see shit in this weather!" Ray nodded, supporting himself with one arm over Tyson's shoulder.

"Perhaps we should go back to the valley?" he suggested, trying to see the others in front. The wind had picked up speed, and every step though the high snow felt like a marathon. Kai was leading the way back out of the valley, and down the mountain. On his back, he carried the unconscious Dimitri, and behind him, with his hand bound, Erik stumbled through the snow, trying to keep up. When they had planned their way out, they had expected him to refuse to carry Kenny on his back, but he didn't. Last came Tyson and Ray, whose leg ached with pain the second he put the smallest amount of weight on it. How Kai could see anything through the harsh weather was beyond him. But at this point, they were all following mindlessly, while focusing on blowing hot air on their hands, and prevent any snow from getting under the hoods.

Kai struggled under the weight of Dimitri, but sooner than he'd thought, they were standing on the high top of the hill leading down the mountain with the small valley, which was now filled up with snow. All footprints were long gone. The snow was so dry it felt like powder, and the low temperature bit his skin. Walking while carrying a fully grown man through snow had drained him of all energy, but every step was more firm and stronger than the other, because he knew he would have fainted from the cold without it.

He ignored Tyson and Ray's pitiful attempts at a plan B, and kept going, keeping an eye on the ones behind him to keep them from falling behind. The last time, when they had gone in the opposite direction, they had been walking in fear from being shot, and paid little attention to their actual destination. Now, it was important that he found the exact way back, or they would have left the warmth of Erik's bitbeast's protective shield in vain.

Kai gasped for air, and bent down to catch his breath. Behind him, the others did the same. The wind suddenly shifted, and the snow hit them from behind, making it easier to see. The hill was tall and steep, and every step had to be carefully placed. He could hear the low voices of Tyson and Ray from behind. Under his jacket, safe and close to his warm chest, was Dizzy hidden in an inner pocket.

I wondered what happened to you, he thought.

"Hiwatari," Erik said, walking up beside him. "I'm willing to switch with you, if you're tired." He nodded towards Dimitri.

"I think it's better keeping you two apart," he replied. "Besides, the poetic justice of you having to carry the man you shot is the only amusement I can afford at the moment."

Erik snorted, but Kai couldn't tell if it was from anger or laughter; it could have been either one. "How is he? Are you sure he's warm enough?" Erik looked up at his partner with growing concern. Kai was becoming more and more confused with Erik, as he had said very little since he finally woke up, not once had he demanded his bitbeast back, and never complained about having to carry Kenny.

"I think so," Kai said. "We need to get down this hill, and I think I can see the edge of the mountain wall we climbed..." he hesitated. A day ago? Two? Five hours? He had no idea. As he pondered this new question, one of his knees collapsed, and all of Dimitri's weight fell on him.

"Kai!" Ray and Tyson yelled in unison. Kai had only a fraction of a second to regain balance before Dimitri would fall forward and crush him into the snow. He lifted his knee up and placed weight on his foot, and for one wonderful second the feeling of fluttering butterflies disappeared from his stomach, before a strong hand grabbed his jacket from behind and pushed him forward. He fell face first into the ground, and had to use all his strength to push Dimitri out of the way to breathe. That short moment had caused him utter confusion. Ray yelled a loud "No!" as Erik threw Kenny to the ground, and attacked him. He had removed his gloves with his teeth, and directed a solid punch at Ray's face. Tyson tried to fend him off, but with a loud yell and victorious grin, Erik straightened up with his gun in his hands. Ray had kept it under his jacket, which was now open and filling up with snow. But the moment of victory didn't last long. Blinded with rage, Tyson threw himself at Erik. They both fell, while fighting for the gun, almost disappearing in the snow as they slid down the steep hill. Kai got to his feet and managed to grab Tyson's jacket, but for a short second he almost fainted from shock as two large hands grasped his throat and almost lifted him from the ground.

Ray almost disappeared behind the huge Dimitri, but with the little weight he had, slammed into his side, and knocked all three of them over. The next thirty seconds became a chaos of snow, fists and rage, as both Ray and Kai tried to get the upper hand on Dimitri. Another punch almost blinded Ray in tears and blood, and he tripped, fell forward, and suddenly vanished into air. The ground disappeared as the hill ended, and Ray searched franticly for something to grasp, something to save him from the drop. His hands caught hold of someone's leg, while feeling someone else grabbed him around the waist. And then, everything stopped.

Ray's breath came in short gasps. He quickly understood that the one holding onto him was Dimitri, and panic rose in his chest. But neither he nor Ray struggled; they both focused their energy on holding on. The drop beneath them disappeared far below, and he could see the narrow path they had followed when they had climbed up. A painful groan made Ray forget Dimitri, and look up. He was clinging onto Kai's foot, who in turn was holding onto the edge of the cliff with his bare hands, holding all three of them up.

"Kai!" Ray said, panic evident in his shaking voice. "K-Kai, please..."

He didn't get any further before Kai moved above him. Slowly, he tried pulling himself up, centimetre by centimetre. Snow fell on Ray and Dimitri below, and Ray had to shift his hold on Kai's foot in order not to fall. With both hands occupied, he had no chance of fighting off Dimitri.

"Kai, be careful, or you'll-"

Frustrated tears welled up in his eyes as he was interrupted by a scream of utter pain as Kai's right arm broke. Despite the pain, he had no choice but to hold onto the edge, and every muscle felt like it twisted around the broken bone, crushed it and broke it into even smaller pieces. He felt like his leg was about to break too, from the weight of two people. He was about to try and pull himself up again, when a sharp _click!_ pierced the air. He looked up, and straight into the muzzle of Erik's gun.

"You can either let go," Erik grinned. "or I can make you."


	15. Chapter 15

_The Beyblade Research Center, California, USA – March 18th, 21:47_

Hilary's angry steps could be heard in every corner of the Research Centre, as she approached Mr. Dickenson's study. She pushed it opened so hard it almost bounced back from the wall, crossed the room in three steps and slammed her hands on the desk. Enrique, who had obviously taken the chance to sit in Mr. Dickenson's comfy chair the minute he stepped outside, almost fell backwards and dropped a cup of coffee in his lap.

"Shit! Hilary, what the actual fuck!?"

"Shut up; where's Mr. Dickenson?" She almost yelled at him. Enrique's face was twisted in a painful grimace as he picked up the cup and tried to ignore the burning hot liquid soaking his clothes. He cleared his throat, and made a point of setting himself down properly, straightening some papers on the desk, and crossed his arms over his chest in a strict manner.

"On the phone," he replied, as calmly as he could despite the pain. He nodded towards a door to his left; only a small glitch was open, and Mr. Dickenson's soft voice could be heard from behind it.

Hilary looked at Enrique with a suspicious frown. "What are you doing here? Oliver and Johnny went to bed hours ago."

Enrique waved a hand at her, and shook his head. "And I don't blame them. But my family happens to own a company here which could be of some help to the situation. I'm just making sure everything moves smoothly."

"What sort of company?"

"Helicopters," Enrique said with a grin. We have seven already on their way to check out the points on the airline route which Mr. Dickenson believes to hold the landing site of the plane." With a quick glance towards the door, he leaned closer and looked Hilary straight in the eyes. "I've been listening to the conversation, even though I understand very little of it. Apparently, there is something going on with the pilots. Do you know anything about that?"

"I think he asked Max to identify them earlier," Hilary said.

"I'm not surprised." Enrique leaned back and started chewing anxiously on a fingernail. They sat in silence, trying to separate the words of Mr. Dickenson's conversation, when the other door opened and Tala stepped inside. His hair was a mess, and he too sipped on a cup of coffee. He greeted them with a nod, and put one hand in his pocket. He stood by the door, rocking on his heels and sipping on his coffee for a while, now and then glancing towards the door, and trying to avoid starting up a conversation. Hilary endured ten minutes of awkward silence, until Mr. Dickenson finally hung up the phone and returned to his study. Enrique practically jumped out of the chair only seconds before the door swung up. Mr. Dickenson showed no sign of surprise when he noticed the three of them staring at him anxiously as he put the phone on the desk and sat down in the chair.

Tala was the first to break the silence. "Any progress?" he asked.

Mr. Dickenson leaned his arms on the desk, and his chin in his hands. "Enrique, I thank you for your help. It will take some time before they are ready to go, but this should help our chances considerably."

Enrique smiled. "They were glad to be of help."

Mr. Dickenson looked from Hilary to Tala. "Many things are uncertain at this point. Just know that-"

"Mr. Dickenson?"

They all turned around in surprise to see Max standing by the door. He was wearing a thick sweater and baggy pants, and his left arm supported by a sling. He had tried combing his hair with his fingers, but it still looked messy, and his skin looked grey and lifeless. His right hand rested on the door handle, slightly trembling.

"Max!" Enrique said. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I'm not tired," Max replied, without even looking at Enrique. He took a few steps into the room, eyes on Mr. Dickenson. "The thing is, I just walked by the lounge, and there's something I need to show you."

They all followed him into the lounge, where Hilary again gazed upon the huge wall filled with portraits and photographs of famous bladers. Max reached out his right hand and pointed, even before he stopped walking, at a small framed photograph hanging just beside the fireplace. Hilary quickly moved past Enrique before he could block her view. The photo was of two men, both in casual but complimenting clothes, in a parking lot. A crowd of people surrounded them; journalists and photographers fighting to get a good view of them. They seemed to be about the same age, one with raven black hair and a familiar face, the other with beautiful blonde hair, and Hilary was sure she had never seen him before.

"Hold on, isn't that-?" Enrique said, but Tala cut him off.

"Alexander Hiwatari; Kai's father." Hilary looked at the man with the black hair, and remembered the portrait in the other end of the room. He was right; there was no doubt about it.

"Exactly," Max said. "Do you see how much Kai looks like him, but also not?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tala asked.

Max glared at him, annoyed. "Really look at the photo, Tala; and then the portrait of Kai." He pointed at the portrait.

Hilary took another step closer. She felt like walking straight into the world inside the photograph, captured and frozen years ago. She heard the loud voices from the crowd, the sounds of closing lenses from the cameras, and footsteps on the hot pavement. A pale sun warmed their shoulders. In a single moment, the two men looked at each other as they made their separate ways through the crowd of journalists. And that was the moment frozen in time. Anyone would look into their eyes and say it was a look of hate. But Hilary saw the fear behind it. She looked from one man to the other, and pictured Kai's face.

She gasped. "You're kidding!"

"See?!" Max said. "And that isn't all. The blonde man... there's no doubt in my mind that I've seen him somewhere before, just about ten years younger. The youngest of the pilots, the one who shot me... this is his father. He looks too much like him."

Mr. Dickenson removed the photo form the wall, turned it upside down in his hands, and opened the back of the frame. He lifted the photo out, and revealed the writing he'd hoped to see on the other side. "Alexander Hiwatari, and Joachim Aasgaard," he read. "Moscow, 1992."

"That's the same year Alexander died," Tala said.

"But..." Enrique said. "Who is Joachim Aasgaard, and why are they in the same picture?"

An eerie silence fell upon them. Hilary was sure she could hear each of their heartbeats pounding.

"Because he was Alexander's opponent in the battle that killed him," Tala said. Hilary looked up at him, trying to remember the things Johnny had told her several hours ago.

"His bitbeast accidentally killed Alexander, right?" Hilary glanced at the portrait of Alexander Hiwatari, proudly holding his Dranzer. "But, that doesn't make sense. Why would Aasgaard's son be after Kai?"

"Because he's crazy, that's why," Max almost whispered. "I experienced that firsthand."

"Tala. Enrique. Come with me," Mr. Dickenson said. "We need to know more. Tala, wake up Spencer, Bryan and Ian; they might know something we don't. Enrique, I'm going to need to talk to whoever is in charge of the remaining helicopters."

He gave the photo and frame to Hilary, and had almost reached the doors before he finished talking. Tala and Enrique followed, both looking back at Max and Hilary with growing concern. Hilary sat down on the nearest sofa, her gaze glued to the photo. Max looked up at the wall, searching for the portrait of Alexander Hiwatari.

"This is... impossible," Hilary whispered. "How can they possibly be related?"

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA - March 18th, 19:48_

"You can either let go," Erik grinned. "or I can make you."

"No, you don't," Dimitri said, as he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small Derringer gun, small enough to have gone unnoticed this far, and pointed it straight at Erik. "Either you stop being such a blind idiot, or I can make you."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, until Erik reached out a hand and started pulling Kai over the edge, and back on firm ground. Ray had a few seconds of panic as he thought he'd might let go as Kai moved, but before he thought it possible, they were all trying to catch their breath on the deep snow at the edge of the cliff. Dimitri was still pointing the gun directly at Erik's face.

"So, you were going to kill Hiwatari with me still hanging two hundred feet above the ground?" Dimitri almost hissed at Erik, disgust written in his eyes. "I suppose you should have been the only one they found left alive here, am I right?" Erik just glared angrily at him.

"Wait, what?" Everyone turned at looked at Ray, who stared wide-eyed at Dimitri. "You're saying people were coming here to find you all along?" Kai suddenly realised what he was talking about.

"In that case, they could be our way out."

"For us, yeah," Erik said. "I don't think they would let any of you on board."

"It wasn't a question, Aasgaard," said Tyson, who came walking towards them through the snow, half dragging Kenny along after him. Ray met him half way, still limping because of his leg, and took hold of one of Kenny's arms while Tyson turned to Dimitri and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Sir, I have a proposition for you. It seems you no longer owe any loyalty to Voltaire, and I swear that Mr. Dickenson will help you in any way he can, if you help us. And so will we. Now…" He fell silent for a few seconds, weighing his opportunities and looking from Ray to Kai. "I have an idea, but it's a bit of a risk. We all need to get away from this place fast, because Kenny only has a few hours at the most, and we're all exhausted because of the cold. Sir…" He looked back at Dimitri. "Are you willing to give us a chance to help you?"

Dimitri never looked away from Erik, his hand trembled a bit as his finger slowly squeezed on the trigger. He and Erik were the only ones to notice, and while Dimitri silently tried to make up his mind of whether to rid himself of the danger, Erik silently begged him not to.

He lowered his hand, and but held onto the gun. Erik exhaled after holding his breath for what felt like minutes. "I have a young daughter," Dimitri said. "She's part of Voltaire's training guard, and he's not going to let her go."

"But…" Kai looked at him with confusion. "I personally destroyed The Abbey, and made sure that-"

"And rest assured that it pissed off your grandfather, young Hiwatari." Dimitri took his eyes off Erik for the first time in ages, and looked at Kai with what seemed like gratitude. "But we wouldn't have been here in the first place if he couldn't find contacts despite his imprisonment. He is the most influential businessman in Russia, and many people are still loyal to him."

Kai felt a wave of anger rise inside of him. Would he ever be rid of the overhanging fear of him? His grandfather constantly watching, always knowing and planning… always seeking him. He looked up at his comrades, and enemies. The wonderful moment when he saw them again at the airport for the first time in ten years, it felt like months ago, and completely drowned in the sensation of wind and snow trying to pierce through his skin. He felt Draciel weighing in his pocket, and reminded him that the group was incomplete. Ray tried to be strong for Tyson, as always, and they both knew that the moment Ray let go of this mask, Tyson wouldn't be able to function the way he did now. It was written all over his face; the loss he felt and the fear of more loss. Kenny could barely stand, he looked like he was half asleep, resting his head on Tyson's shoulder, his arms limp, and his face lifeless. Erik was for the moment pinned into a corner, and he knew it. He was breathing heavily, either from exhaustion or anger, or both. Like Kenny, Dimitri was using energy he should not be possessing, and every movement was forced and slow. If Erik wanted to attack him, he would probably win, if Dimitri didn't have the gun.

"You have my word," Kai said. "I will not rest until your daughter is safe."

Dimitri nodded slowly. He then looked up. "Mr. Granger; that plan of yours. How does it go?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

* * *

_Moscow, 1990_

The flourescent lights passed over his head like streetlights outside the windows of a car, as something out there, and separated from his world. Dark were the corners of the naked corridors, and echoes of his footsteps danced from the stone walls. A feeling of being far under the ground weighed on his shoulders, but the black uniform made sure he kept his head up, like a soldier marching into battle. However, this was home. It had been for as far back as he could recall. The dark underground labyrinth of hallways, training rooms and laboratories had been his playground as a child, and it had become his refuge as an adult. Worry clouded his senses, and twice he almost walked past the doors he was looking for. In his hand, he clutched a piece of paper, and he had barely stepped into his father's office before he slammed it on his desk.

"What is this?" he hissed through his teeth, in a threatening whisper. The man behind the desk looked up slowly, put down his pen and gave him a look of impatience, as if he was dealing with a bothersome child.

"It's a piece of paper, Alexander. Don't you have some practice to busy yourself with?" His voice clearly dismissed him, but Alexander did not budge. He grabbed the paper, folded it out, and started reading aloud.

"Thank you for your letter of inquiry, Mr. Hiwatari," he read, now and then glancing up at his father. "I'm pleased to tell you that the child is of good health after the surgery, and we thank you for your help with finding a donor," Voltaire suddenly froze, and his eyes grew wide. Alexander looked at him as he finished the sentence. "… as a small clinic we are constantly in need of donors for blood type O negative."

Alexander narrowed his eyes in anger as he watched his father fight an inner battle about something. It was clear that the older man was thinking for an excuse, or a cheap way out.

"I have done everything you wanted," Alexander said. "Everything you expected of me as your son, I have fulfilled. How stupid do you think I am?"

"Where did you find that letter?" Voltaire asked. Even now, he did not look his son in the eyes.

"I printed it from the archive, father." He leaned forward and put his hands flat on the desk. "Anna's bloodtype is A positive, which is dominant to O negative." He suddenly lost his temper, slammed his fist into the desk, and shouted "Dad, look at me!" straight into Voltaire's face. "What have you done?!"

"Calm yourself," Voltaire snapped back at him, and finally their eyes met, trying their best to stare down the other.

"Calm?" Alexander whispered. He took a few steps back and ran five shaking fingers through his raven black hair. "Kai… he's not mine, is he? Nor is he Anna's." He chuckled quietly; covering his face for a few seconds, before he suddenly changed his approach and looked at his father with a pained expression. "Dad, you've gone too far. I have tolerated so much of your bullshit, but this… I told you I never wanted my son to be part of this… madhouse! Is that why you took him away from me? And put some other child in his place? Why... WHY!?"

"Alexander!" Voltaire rose from his chair. "Follow me."

"What?"

Voltaire turned and opened a door in the other end of the room, so far hidden from his view behind a bookcase. He did not even look back at him, but entered without a word. Alexander stood frozen for a moment, before he walked after him, slowly and hesitant. Every piece of furniture in the office were familiar to him. He knew every scratch in the desk, every book on the shelves. But never had he been allowed into this room, not even as an adult. The room was dark, with a sharp light shining in the farthest end. He felt like walking into the night sky, only to find his feet on the hard ground like before. The strong light shoved his father's silhouette in front of several monitors. Someone else were there with them, hidden in the darkness surrounding them.

"What is this?" Alexander asked, breathlessly. His eyes hurt from trying to see past the dark, while also shielding them from the light.

"This," Voltaire replied. "Has been my project for several years." Alexander stopped by his side. His eyes searched the screens and the countless pictures on the walls for answers. Finally, they stopped by the sight of something in a small glass case. It was the size of his hand, and almost blacker than the room in which it rested. "I was going to give it to you some day." Voltaire continued. "But to be quite honest, your test results have shown that you would be unable to control it."

"I don't see what this has to do with-"

"It has everything to do with your choices, my son." He turned and looked him straight in the eyes. "You chose not to obey me, and I have always taught you to live with the consequences of your actions, haven't I?"

Alexander backed away, his eyes wide. "W-what are you talking about?"

"I took your son away because I made a deal with you long ago not to include him in my work, because I though you would be good enough." The words echoed in Alexander's ears, emptied him for any other thought, and for the first time in decades, he felt the stinging sensation of tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Voltaire narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"You have proven too weak, and you have only yourself to blame. Take the child you have, or I will leave you with none. Since he is not your son, our deal does not include him." He pointed at the glass case. "Kai will carry on the legacy you chose to give up, Alexander." He opened the lid, and picked it up. It was huge, strong and destructive, and a bitchip shone proudly in its center.

"This is Black Dranzer," Voltaire said. "A technological wonder, and far superior to your…bird." His voice was practically dripping with spite and venom. Alexander felt the warmth of Dranzer in his pocket, comforting and reassuring. One tear spilled over on his cheek. Usually, he would have wiped it away before his father got the chance to see it. He let it roll down his cheek, drip off his chin, and the silence was so intense they could both hear it hit the ground.

"Give my child back to me," he whispered, his voice shaking with anger, and for the first time in his life, hate. "You will give him back."

Voltaire held his gaze for a moment, before he put the black beyblade back in its glass case. "Your son is safe. But," he looked back at Alexander one last time before he started walking towards a different door than the one they had entered. "But I think it would be better to keep him in the dark about his family, don't you think?"

"You heartless bastard!" Alexander yelled, and would have charged at him, but several pair of hands grasped him before he could even move, and he struggled against them in panic. He got a glimpse of white coats and muffled grunts as he hit them. "Come back! I know now! I know the truth!" He stopped struggling, as his father disappeared through the door. He suddenly felt himself go limp, and fell to his knees. The hands holding him back slowed down the impact, but had not the strength to hold him up. He felt people surrounding him, blocking out his view of the door, out of focus and blurred from the tears he was not strong enough to hold back.

"Give him back to me."

* * *

Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 22:50

Captain Mikhail Asimov leaned out of the open side door and gazed down at the endless white far beneath them. He had hoped, after years of service, that he was over his fear of heights by now, but a sting of fear still gripped him, and froze him in place. The rotor blades were deafening, and the wind howled in his ears. A dark spot suddenly appeared out of the white, and a few minutes later, it took the shape of a man. He waved his hands at them, signaling for them to land. Asimov shouted a few words to the pilots and pointed down. They had been circling the area for a while, after they had gone to the cabin, but found it vacant. He jumped to the ground the minute they landed, and signaled to his two companions to do the same. The wind brought snow flying down from the mountains, like when you blow flour away from a tabletop. He reached out a hand, and greeted Barsukov, whom he recognized from a previous meeting. He was clad in a thick jacket, but the little he could see of his face looked exhausted and pained. He also noticed he moved with a slight limp, and hunched a bit with his back.

"Barsukov," he yelled through the wind. "Am I glad to see you! I was afraid we would be going home empty handed! Where were you? We just got your signal, what happened?"

"Oh, we just had a hard time finding the cabin. I'm sorry for your trouble, Captain!"

Asimov waved a hand dismissively in front of his face. "Don't worry about it. But I thought there would be two of you! Did you finish what you came here for?"

"We did!" Barsukov replied. He hesitated for a short second. "Captain, I'm sorry, I'm going to have to ask you to move back toward the helicopter."

"What?" Asimov asked, before he noticed Barsukov was pointing a gun straight at his chest. He was lost for words as he slowly raised his hands up, and jumped slightly as someone he could not see reached a hand inside his jacket and removed his own gun. He took a few steps back.

"What is this?" he asked Barsukov. "Have you gone mad? We came here to bring you home!"

Barsukov ignored him, and signaled to someone behind him. Asimov turned around slowly, and saw his two fellow soldiers being relieved of their weapons by two young men who both seemed very familiar. They were ordered back into the helicopter. One of them stuck his head out and shouted something, to which Barsukov nodded, and put a firm hand on Asimov's shoulder. It felt strange being tied up by the very man he'd come to rescue. He was pushed down in the back of the helicopter beside his two comrades, who both glared angrily at the people around them. Asimov had been told very little about Barsukov's assignment, only the things he'd needed to know.

Part from Barsukov there were three young men who seemed to be working with him. The last one of them entered the helicopter half carrying an injured man, who was laid down on a small bed of jackets just next to him. The last person present was in the same position as himself: tied up and forced to obey. He quickly recognized him as Erik Aasgaard, and raised his eyebrows in wonder. Aasgaard met his gaze and exhaled sharply, in passive anger. He and his men had probably been his last hope. He looked beat up and tired, with dark circles under his eyes, and his skin covered in thin cuts and bruises.

One of the men working with Barsukov kept a close eye on him, a gun ready in his hand. He had pitch black hair and tan skin, and the first thing he noticed about him was his obviously injured leg. He never put any weight on it, and flinched every time it touched anything. The pain was evident on his face, but he kept his cool and stayed calm. The last two men had yet to enter the helicopter, and he could hear their muffled voices from outside. He tried again to get Aasgaard's attention, to get some sort of answer, but he had closed his eyes, and never looked up no matter how much Asimov cleared his throat.

* * *

_Moscow, 23 years ago_

Alexander Hiwatari felt his heart sink as he stepped inside the stadium. From the quiet, dark hall, he felt himself drowning in this new, overwhelming flow of light and sound. Thousands of screaming voices from the audience became part of his own inner voice, screaming back. He held Kai close to his chest, felt the warmth from the child, and his little hand so soft in his own. His wide eyes stared in wonder at the spotlights, the waving crowd like a thunderstorm in the distance. He saw Anna sitting in her reserved seat, as close to him as possible. Her hands were clenched in her lap, slightly shaking; her eyes fixed on him, and never blinking. For a few seconds more, he stood holding Kai, and blinked calmly back at his wife, telling her to relax and not to worry. One more second. Another moment to remember and cherish. Then another. Every second he could steal.

"Alright, son. Go to your mom, okay? I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay, dad," Kai said, and Alexander bent down until his little feet touched the ground. His hands loosened their hold on his tiny body, let go, ever so slowly, brushed against his arm as he started running towards the audience, and the warmth lingered in his skin ever since. The last second passed, and never would he have it again. He could see Anna cover her mouth with her hand, could see her fight to keep her face calm. Ice spread inside him. It flowed like a river through his body, into his arms, his legs, and rested in his chest. A feeling of walking under water followed him as he stepped up to the beydish, and looked up to see his opponent.

Joachim turned around in the exact same moment, his little son let go of his hand and ran for the audience, like a mirror was placed between them, and either one could be real, and the other a reflection. Brown eyes met blue. In them, he read the same ice-cold pain possessing him, because he knew. He knew that the moment he let go of his child, was the last time he would ever hold him. Ever talk to him. Ever see him. This was how it was supposed to be in their world.

He could feel his father watching him. The father who willingly and gladly let go of his hand. The one who shattered the mirror, and brought the illusion to life. He never heard the countdown, but lifted his hand when Joachim did, and sent Dranzer flying into battle. Then panic. Was there a way to stop it? To stop everything? He gritted his teeth, and his hands became fists, as if he was the one getting ready to fight. Joachim stood motionless, calling out for his Tjyrna to advance, and attack. Everything plunged into a sea of white light and dust, and for a blissful moment, Dranzer warmed him with her fire. He wanted to jump into the beydish and grasp it with his hands, to become one with the wonderful heat. A shrieking voice pierced through his thoughts.

He looked up, and there, behind a wall of fiery red feathers and white claws, stood Joachim, watching him. The sounds of running footsteps could be heard somewhere, but they disappeared in the words he said, more quiet than a whisper.

"I have given him back to you." Joachim's face softened with the words, became an expression of sorrow and pain.

Death is silent. It came over him as a warm blanket, and he barely registered Dranzer as a thousand blue, shattered pieces flying out of the beydish.

"No, DON'T!" Kai cried out, just as Tjyrna ceased to be the great lynx he had battled so many times before, and reduced herself to light. It came towards him just as fast, before he could even move. It felt like a piece of himself was suddenly removed. No pain, nothing could support this feeling. He lifted a hand and touched his chest, where the light had made its impact. A beating heart. Blood flowing inside him. Life. For a few more seconds.

He felt a hot river of blood pour slowly from the corner of his mouth, and hit the floor next to his feet. No hands were near to hold him as he fell, his knees meeting the cold floor with a sickening sound, and then his head, before he could reach out his hands to soften the fall. The world spun. The ceiling with its many lights could just as well have been the ground, and in any moment, he would fall further still, away from the cold and up, up towards the blinding light. Only the blue eyes appeared in this whirlwind of last things seen. They whispered, they begged, they cried. "Tilgi meg". Forgive me. Brothers forgive.

"Dad! Dad, please! Say something!"

He felt Kai's hand on his shoulder. Small, warm, growing, and close. For a few seconds more. Just one more.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA – March 18th, 23:28_

Kai flinched in pain when his broken arm brushed against the side of the helicopter, as he leaned his back against it to catch his breath. He had to move his wrist and fingers now and then to keep them from growing stiff from the cold and every movement sent stabbing daggers through his arm. It had already been a good hour since he realised he could no longer feel the left side of his face, and the skin felt like smooth leather when he touched it. His entire body ached, and every breath was painful. He dreaded every movement, and forced himself to stay on his feet.

Dimitri joined him outside, after exchanging a few more words with Ray, who kept a close eye on the soldiers and Erik.

"All set?" Kai asked. Dimitri nodded, and was about to ask where Tyson was, when he appeared out of the wind. It was so full of snow; they could barely see a meter in front of them. Somewhere, not so far out of their sight, was the wrecked plane lying half buried in the snow. He came carrying Dizzy in his hands, the screen open and showing him the way with its pale, electric light.

"Where were you?" Dimitri shouted through the wind.

"I went back to the cockpit to load Dizzy!" Tyson yelled back. "There was still some more left in the reserve batteries, but I'm not too sure it will hold for long. We won't have to use it for a while, though; but that distress signal you sent took a huge chunk of energy, I'll tell you that."

"I'm surprised I still remembered the password, I've never had to use it before." Dimitri said, chuckling and shook his head at Tyson, who closed down Dizzy and put her safely inside his jacket.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked Dimitri, who nodded, and stepped inside the helicopter. They could hear him take his place in the pilot's seat, and started up the engines. They roared like wild animals in symphony with the wind. Tyson took a step towards Kai, and looked up so his hood fell back a little and revealed his face. It was pale, with red bruises where the cold had bit onto his skin. Dried blood could be seen under his hairline where he had hit his head, and his eyes were dull with exhaustion. "Kai…" he said, and Kai had to move closer to hear.

"Kai, I'm…" Tyson supported himself with a hand on the side of the helicopter. "I just… I just wanted to tell you that… that even though we get out… I don't think… I don't know if…"

"Don't," Kai cut him off. "I know. We all know. Nevertheless, we have to do this. We have to try."

"Yeah," Tyson mumbled. "Yeah."

Kai held onto his shoulder as support when Tyson stepped inside the helicopter. For a very slow second, he felt the wind howl in his ears, snow fly into his hood and jacket, and the cold sting on his skin. Then, suddenly, he was inside, and the wind howled somewhere else, the snow evaded him, and the cold became just a bit more bearable. Inside was organized chaos. Two soldiers, with their captain, and the pilot, were tied up and sat side by side in the back. Erik sat leaning against the back of the pilot's seat, also tied up, and seemingly asleep. Kenny lay on the floor, barely visible under several layers of whatever they could find in the helicopter. The back of Dimitri's head could be seen just behind Erik, and Ray stood just beside Kenny, gun ready and by his side. Tyson sat next to Kenny and tried to massage some warmth into his cheeks. Kai closed the heavy door behind him, and stood there, not really knowing what to do. Dimitri turned around and sent a nod in his direction. Seconds later, the rotor blades picked up speed, and with a slight tingling in his stomach, they were in the air. Two small windows were on either side of the helicopter, but Kai took a firm hold of the second pilot's seat, and watched through the huge eyes of the monster. At first, all was white and blurred. Lines of black appeared, and became lone tree trunks for a while, before even they disappeared far below them. Snowflakes hit the windows like tiny bullets. Only the engines could be heard, and no one dared break the silence between them.

They had been in the air for twenty minutes, and Kai had paid close attention to Dimitri as he wrote in the coordinates and right directions, when it happened. Actually, four things happened almost at the same time.

The first was that the radio suddenly flared up in both alarming red lights, and a commanding voice demanding them to identify themselves. All froze from the sound, but the Bladebreakers especially, as they recognized the voice of none other than Mr. Dickenson.

The second thing was that through the haze of falling snow outside, a small dark silhouette appeared, barely visible, until it almost immediately took the shape of another helicopter.

The third thing was that Tyson jumped up even before Dimitri had the time to react to the radio, and shouted "MR. DICKENSON, IT'S US!" just as Ray tried to hold him back to let Mr. Dickenson finish the sentence.

The fourth thing was that Erik jumped to his feet, snapped the pistol out of Ray's hand when he was distracted, and shot Dimitri right in the head. Tyson and Kai jumped back as blood splattered all over the windows and controls, and the sound of the gunshot exploded in their ears.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

I dedicate this chapter to a guest reviewer who made my day. Thank you so much for that, and for giving me some inspiration to finish this story. You're awesome.

* * *

_The Beyblade Research Center, California, USA – March 18th, 22:00_

Hilary did not bother knocking on the door, but kicked it furiously with the tip of her pretty, blue shoe. "Open up, Tala! Oy! Get the fuck out here!" The racket must have woken up the entire building, still it took him close to a minute to open. Before she could slap his face, he walked past her, grabbed her arm, and with the help of Ian, Bryan and Spencer led her down the hall.

"Calm down," he said. "We're meeting the rest in the lounge." The rest of his team looked just as tired as he did, all dressed in pajama pants and thick sweaters. She would have laughed at Bryan's pink slippers, but this was hardly the time.

"I want to know what Mr. Dickenson said to you! I saw him leave just now, and you guys are the only ones who knows what's going on."

Tala sent her a look of annoyance, or so she thought; he always looked like that. He picked up speed, and soon they approached the huge double doors leading into the lounge. Many voices could be heard from inside, muffled conversations, either whispered or never spoken at all. Tala pushed the doors open, and Hilary saw from behind him that all the teams had gathered already. The All Stars had occupied the sofas around the fireplace, with Judy sitting in between them, her hands twisted together and moving to a nervous rhythm only she could hear. The Majestics sat by the bar, each of them holding onto a glass of wine, and visibly struggled to hold up a conversation. Oliver had given up completely, and sat with his head resting in his arms on the counter, eyes closed. Staring up at the portraits was Max, his right arm clenching his left, as if he was in pain. She was surprised to see Grandpa Granger with an arm around his shoulders, the first time she had seen him since they both arrived. They all looked up the moment they heard the doors open, and all conversation silenced. Tala took a deep breath.

"We need to talk."

Everyone sat up straight, even Oliver, and the Blitzkrieg Boys sat down in the remaining chairs closer to the doors. Hilary sat down next to Enrique by the bar, and immediately regretted it. Finding a comfortable position on a tall barstool in a dress was close to impossible. It was completely dark outside, and the room seemed twisted and strange without the warm sunlight. Without really wanting it, Tala became the main speaker, and they all waited for him to begin.

"I, uhm…" Tala almost whispered. "Mr. Dickenson left a few minutes ago in one of the helicopters. They believe they know the location of the lost jet." He looked down at his hands. "I think we're all quite confused as to what is really going on. I just wanted to gather everyone so that we might clear up a few things. Mr. Dickenson will probably be back within four to five hours, before they have to break off the search for the night. I think now is the time to ask those who know a few things about the situation, before he returns." He looked from Max, to Judy, to Hilary.

"Thank God," Steven mumbled. "First off, what really happened to that jet?"

Tala and Max looked at each other, before they both looked away, either one afraid of interrupting the other. Max cleared his throat. "Well, I was there, so…" Hilary watched him as he spoke. It was as if the last hours had been eating up his energy. He looked like a frail boy, exhausted and tired, his skin far too pale, and his eyes too dull and lifeless. Still he held unto his left arm as if he wanted to be sure it was still there.

"We had almost fallen asleep, most of us, when we felt some strange turbulence." He said. As he spoke, his voice became stronger, more pained and troubled. The room was in complete silence, and the dark seemed to capture his words, give them life, and convert them into images. "Ray and Kai walked over to the cockpit door, but no one answered. I don't remember who eventually opened it, but the pilots were gone, and a hatch in the floor was open."

"They jumped, and left you there?" Rick asked. Max nodded, looking down at his feet.

"Everything became complete chaos. I remember it as a blur of voices and strong wind." He frowned and closed his eyes. "The plane started tilting down at the front, and we lost altitude. Kai told us to get further back in the plane, but climbing on the seats was almost impossible. I don't…" he hesitated. "I don't remember if anyone managed to close the hatch. It all happened too quickly. I think Kai and Ray tried to pilot the plane, somehow. The plane hit something, and the side close to me was ripped open. In one minute, I was holding onto my seat, the next, I just wasn't. I fell, and that was it. I woke up at some point, and couldn't move. And they were there, the pilots. Or, I think they were the pilots, I never saw them before that point. T-they each had a gun, and they were discussing whether to leave me, or shoot me."

Judy made a strange sound, and everyone blinked, as if waking from a trance. "I got away, but not far. They followed my trail, and…" Hilary was breathing heavily. Sweat started to gather on her forehead. Tyson was still there.

"I woke up here." Max said, finishing his story. "That is all I remember. Also…" He touched his neck with his good right arm. "I lost Draciel."

No one wanted to ask the next question, but Oliver finally summed up the courage to do so. "And you don't know anything about the others?"

"No," Max whispered. "I saw pieces from the jet scattered around when I was running away, but that's it."

"Still, you have given us something to follow up on, Max." Judy said. "The pilots. You saw their faces."

"I did," Max nodded. "Mr. Dickenson gave me some pictures, and I recognized one of them. Was that what Mr. Dickenson wanted to talk to you about?" he asked Tala, who looked up.

"Yes. The one you pointed out on the picture is Dimitri Barsukow, a Russian man in his forties. He was hoping some of us might recognize him, as he suspected he was working for Voltaire."

The atmosphere in the room changed immediately. Every single one of them had personally experienced what Voltaire was capable of, and old memories came to the surface. Several of them reached for their blades, as if assuring themselves that they were still there.

"I heard he was arrested ten years ago!" Eddie said, his voice barely audible through the confused murmur.

"As far as I know, he's still in prison," Judy remarked. Tala shook his head in silence, and waited for them all to quiet down.

"He served seven years in isolated prison, but since he has always been a highly respected businessman, he was allowed to use his skills to serve the government while serving out his life sentence. Although he has always been heavily guarded and surveyed, it now seems he has found a way to communicate with someone still loyal to him."

Again, the room exploded in angry voices, most of them now criticizing Voltaire's sentence.

"So, the pilots are working for Voltaire," Michael said, "to get rid of all of them? Or just Kai?"

Silence again fell upon them as they all thought about this. Hilary hated herself for thinking that Tyson might die for Kai, but couldn't help it.

"And then there's the second pilot," Max broke the silence. "We think we've found a connection between him and Kai, though we don't know every detail." Hilary suddenly stuck her hand in her pocket and found the photograph Mr. Dickenson had given her, the one showing Alexander Hiwatari and his arch enemy surrounded by journalists. She gave it to Oliver, and he studied it closely before handing it to Enrique.

"We believe he is the son of the man Kai's father battled the day he died, Joachim Aasgaard." His eyes met Hilary's, and she shook her head slowly. They didn't need to know. Not yet. "And that might complicate things."

Emily leaned forward on the sofa. "What are the chances for them to make it? I mean, even without the pilots after them."

"We don't even know if they survived the crash," Tala said. "But if they did… It's been-" he looked at the watch on his wrist. "Almost 24 hours since we lost contact. It's impossible for them all to have walked away from it without injury, and at this time of year, the Rockies are pretty harsh. I don't know. Anything is possible at this point."

"What will happen if Mr. Dickenson can't find anything today?" Grandpa Granger asked, concern heavy in his voice.

"We will go back to keep searching until we find everyone," Enrique said. "But the chance of finding anyone alive grows smaller every minute."

Tala rose from his seat. "Go to sleep, all of you. In three hours, he will be back, and we will either know a little bit more, or everything will be over."

Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA - March 18th, 23:30

His world became sound. And sound became vision. Kai stood frozen, his hands protecting his ears, staring without understanding. The gunshot was like white light piercing through him, threatening to shatter him against the dark. Then, without warning, every sound so far withheld from him came rushing into the vacuum left by the gunshot. The thundering sound of the engines and rotor blades, and the howling wind trying to tear them all apart.

Erik quickly grabbed the steering controls and held them steady, the gun now pointed straight at Kai's face. Just visible behind him was Dimitri, his head bent forward, no longer moving, no longer breathing. Erik's usually perfect blond hair fell into his face, his breath came in short, frustrated gasps, and his eyes locked with Kai's, his finger squeezing tighter and tighter around the trigger. Before anyone else could say or do anything, he reached for the radio.

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA - March 18th, 20:35_

Mr. Stanley Dickenson held his breath, waiting. The wind sent snow like bullets on the windows, blocking out what little daylight still lingered in the sky. His heart threatened to pound its way through his chest, and the tension felt like a blanket thrown over his shoulders to choke him. The two pilots in front of him struggled to keep the helicopter steady against the elements, and often sent him nervous glances, hoping for orders they would be happy to follow. He could see them as a blurred shadow out there, and as a clear red dot marking their position on the dashboard.

Suddenly, loud static came from the radio, followed by an unfamiliar voice. Everyone in the helicopter froze, eyes wide, staring out through the window at the shadow hovering out there.

"Mr. Dickenson, how nice to finally speak to you in person."

The pilots turned around in their seats and looked at him in surprise. He frowned, readied himself, and pushed down the button that would allow him to answer. "Who is this? Aasgaard or Barsukow?"

The man at the other end must have laughed at the question; they could hear it in his voice as he replied. "Aasgaard. I'm not surprised you know who we are, old man."

Mr. Dickenson felt anger build up inside him, almost blocking out the fear. The voice sent shivers down his back. "Mr. Aasgaard, I warn you. You have made this into a hostage situation. What can you possibly hope to gain from this?"

"Gain?" He answered. "Oh, dear, this is a typical misunderstanding." They heard only static for a few seconds, and exchanged looks of worry. "I have orders I need to follow, Mr. Dickenson. It's as simple as that. And no, I don't gain anything, but that's not the point."

"Then what is it you want?"

Static.

"I want to be his _only_ grandson."

* * *

_Somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, USA - March 18th, 20:40_

In between the chaos, anger and fear that filled the small helicopter, Kai stood frozen in shock, staring at Erik with wide eyes. Tyson held onto his arm to keep him from doing anything stupid, but he couldn't have even if he wanted to. Erik turned around slowly, one hand on the steering wheel, the other letting go of the radio button on the dashboard.

"That's right," he said, so low Kai had to read it on his lips. "Mr. Dickenson," he said, pressing down the button. "I am going in my own direction, and you will not follow me. Is that understood?" He flipped off the radio, picked up the gun he'd put on the dashboard, and again pointed it at them. "Just sit back and enjoy."

Erik changed course, and the silhouette of the other helicopter disappeared. A thousand thoughts ran through Kai's head as the seconds passed and became minutes. No one said anything, they barely moved, just waited for something to happen. The other soldier were tied up for now, it was only one against three. Without having even the shadow of a plan, he clenched his hands into fists, and readied himself. If it wasn't for the gun, they could take him down easily. They had to.

A sound distracted him, and he turned to see Captain Asimov staring at him. He had knocked his boot against the floor three times, loud enough for him to notice. He was intensely trying to communicate with him through his eyes, and Kai was sure he mouthed the words "Do it".

Kai moved his head back, and under the cover of the roaring engines whispered to Ray, "Set Asimov free."

"Wha-?" he couldn't finish before Kai pushed him aside, and leapt forward. The second before his boot made impact with Erik's hand, seemed to last longer than it probably did. For a short moment, he had no idea if Erik would turn around and be quick enough to shoot him down before he even got near him. He closed his eyes as Erik's hand was crushed between his boot and the dashboard, and the gun slipped out between his broken fingers. Erik cursed loudly in his own language, and caught Kai's fist before he could punch him. Instead, Kai was pushed back and into the second pilot's seat. Suddenly, the familiar sensation of falling made him panic, and like before, he saw the world spin outside the windows, as the helicopter was left to the mercy of the wind.

Erik reached for him with his left hand, his face twisted in anger. He reached his good arm behind his back, found the lever poking into his back, and pushed it down just as he grabbed hold of Erik with his broken arm. The door behind him flew up and was ripped off the side of the helicopter. For a short second Erik's face transformed into one of realization and fear, before Kai lost sight of everything around him, and his world became wind, snow, chaos and confusion. He held onto Erik's arm, and felt his own ache with pain. They both screamed along with the wind as they fell, before the ground hit them. The fall had not been as long as he'd thought it would be, still he lay motionless in complete darkness, as he felt his body ache from the impact, and the cold quickly digging into his skin. He heard engines far above him. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and someone turning him around to face upwards. He groaned, opened his eyes slightly, and tried to move his head.

"You're insane," Erik said above him. Kai jolted awake when Erik's fist met his cheek, and managed to push him back with a kick to the stomach. He got on his feet, and barely had time to register the dark, and the snow reaching almost to his knees, before Erik appeared out of nowhere, grabbed a hold of his broken arm, and twisted it until Kai fell to his knees. He screamed louder than he he'd ever done in his life, and searched frantically for the hand holding him. Erik was too close, the dark too thick, and the snow drowning them, until he couldn't be sure what was snow and what was enemy. Erik finally managed to put his broken hand around Kai's throat, and before he could draw another breath, was pushed under the snow. Blinded, he fought back, his lungs screaming for air. He kicked him, scratched him, and punched him, but for every punch, he became weaker.

Erik was holding his legs down under his boots, but suddenly his left leg got free to one side, and without even thinking, he kicked at his enemy. The reaction was immediate. Erik let go of him, and moved away from him with a whimper of pain. Kai jolted upright and filled his lungs with icy air. It burned like fire down his throat. His hands felt numb, and the joints ached every time he clenched them into fists. He charged at Erik, who again caught his punch mid-air, but this time Erik was the one to fall on his back. Kai felt himself blinded with a rage that felt like hot water running through him, and he didn't care how much his hands hurt, he punched every inch of Erik's face he could see. Erik managed to push him off, and with a scream of pain and fury, kicked Kai straight in the face. They both could hear a sickening sound of bones breaking. Kai stumbled backward, blood pouring from his face, and tried not to lose sight of Erik. His enemy rose up in front of him, and sent him to the ground with a kick to the chest. Kai felt something break inside him, and every breath became a gasp for air. He grabbed a handful of snow, got up on his knees, and was about to throw it, when two gunshots pierced through the air.

The first hit Erik in the leg, sending him to his knees. The second hit him straight in the chest. He fell back, and landed in the soft snow. Kai sat wide eyed, listening to the approaching voices. They shouted, their feet pawing through the black snow, coming closer and closer. He felt strange. It was as if someone were trying to poke a small needle into his back. He looked down and felt with his good hand under his jacket.

"Kai!" someone shouted. His hand was completely red. A fire started spreading through his chest, burning him from inside, breaking and devouring him. He closed his eyes tightly shut, gritted his teeth as a scream of more fear than pain began in his throat, before it escaped completely. The fire consumed him, and became him. He didn't know what to do to make it stop, yet every cell in his body demanded him to do something, anything.

"Kai! Oh my God…" he heard Tyson's familiar voice, and someone holding him up. Several people were moving around him, but he couldn't separate each individual voice. They became one confusing mass of chaos. He felt the little energy he had fade away. His eyelids became overwhelmingly heavy, and he let his head fall backwards, feeling someone catching him before he fell. He tried to breathe, but found it more and more difficult. The voices tried to keep him awake. They sounded panicked and rushed, and he was glad they soon faded into darkness. It was better that way. The fire couldn't reach him here. This was safe. This was peaceful.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

* * *

_The Beyblade Research Centre, California, USA – March 18th, 22:34_

She had once again fallen asleep in the lounge. It came upon her like a dark wave in the distance; something she couldn't completely understand, or see clearly. Sleep was too heavy on her eyes and mind, and when she finally awoke completely, she was already on her way towards the lobby, along with everyone else. The lights were off, and all she saw were silhouettes stumbling into each other, trying to make chaos into order. Loud voices calling all around her. It wasn't until she saw the sharp lights outside the windows, that she fully understood why she was on her way out the main doors, pushed there by the crowd.

She gasped and stopped by the foot of the stairs. Three huge, black helicopters had landed just outside the building, rotor blades still going, and with only a few people on the ground. They ran around, hunched over under the rotor blades, signaling to each other. The doors opened. Hilary was surrounded by people, probably everyone in the Research Centre, and for a while she lost sight of the helicopters. She pushed through, fought her way to the front line, and searched with her eyes. The crowd gathered around the helicopters had grown, and the voices were louder.

"Tyson..." she whispered, as she ran towards them. People started moving towards the entrance doors in small groups. Hilary stretched her neck to look past the unfamiliar faces, but found nothing but silhouettes and shadows. For every group of shadows that passed her, she grew more and more frustrated. Her vision became blurred from tears, and after a while she just stood in silence among the crowd, watching as the final group from the helicopters made their way into the building.

She suddenly recognized Spencer's face, and reached out a hand to stop him. "Spencer, please, what's going on? I can't find anyone!"

"Hilary." he said, surprised. "Come on, get inside."

"Please... Tyson, is he...?"

Spencer led her through the crowd, up the stairs and into the now bright lobby, where only a few people still lingered, deep in conversation. She had no idea where they were going, but trusted Spencer to lead her in the right direction. Hallways and doors barely registered in her memory, and the warm ceiling lights became a trail for her to follow. They finally stopped outside a large double door, where many familiar voices sounded loud and angry. She saw Max yelling at a nurse trying to hurry past the crowd, Tala knocking furiously on the doors, and it all became a collection of images in her mind. She sat down on a chair in the hallway, like everyone else who wasn't busy trying to force their way through the doors every time someone tried to make their way out. She hugged her legs tightly and let her head rest on her knees. Soon, someone came and told everyone to be quiet.

She sat like this for a long time, half asleep, and waiting. Her only way of telling the time was seeing them all fall asleep around her, one by one. Even Max finally had to succumb to the silence. She was the only one to look up when Mr. Dickenson came out, holding a cell phone to his ear, hurrying past them as quietly as he could. He noticed her, and gave her a faint smile and a nod. Hilary followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight. He didn't return in several hours.

The sun was rising by the time the crowd outside the doors starting to wake up. Hilary blinked herself awake, and sat up along with everyone else.

"Can you hear anything?" someone asked.

"No, nothing." someone answered.

Hilary rose to her feet, walked across the hall, tried not to notice the people staring at her, and knocked on the door. She stood looking down at her feet for about ten seconds, before footsteps made everyone look up. The door opened slowly, and behind it stood a young nurse, probably the one Max had yelled at.

"Excuse me," Hilary said. "I'm just wondering if there are any news about the patients."

"I'm sorry, miss," she said, quietly, glancing at the crowd behind her. "I've been told not to say anything for sure before all the surgeries are done."

"The fuck you have!" someone shouted, and several people got to their feet in anger.

The nurse was about to close the door, but Hilary stopped her just in time. "I'm sorry, please forgive them. It's been a rough night. Can you please just tell me if there have been any casualties?"

The hallway became deathly quiet. The nurse hesitated for several painful seconds.

"Four casualties so far, miss." she said, before closing the door. They heard a key locking it shut.

"So far..." Hilary whispered.

She turned around slowly. Every single one stared at her, and then each other.

"No," Max mumbled. "No, no, no, no..." Judy hugged him close. He shrugged her off and yelled "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" People got to their feet, and in the confusion with trying to calm Max down, no one noticed that she walked past them, down the hall, and down the stairs, following the trail of ceiling lamps all the way down to the lobby, and towards the elevator. Her reflection stared back at her from the ceiling. The girl in the mirror looked haggard. Her hair was a huge mess, her makeup smeared out, and her dress didn't complement her as much as it had earlier. Now it just looked misplaced. The elevator stopped with a pling, she got off, and followed the numbered doors, until she found the right one. The door was open, and light shone through it on the green carpet in the hall. She put a hand on the door and pushed it open, before stepping inside.

Mr. Dickenson's office was even messier than the last time she'd been there. The man himself sat behind the desk, a cup of coffee in his hands. He had some open documents in front of him, but he didn't look at them, just kept his hands warm on the cup, and stared into space. He looked up when he saw her moving in the doorway.

"Hilary," he said, and put the cup down. Some of the thick liquid spilled over the edge and became tiny waterfalls until they gathered in a circular river around the cup. "Come on in."

She sat down in the chair opposite him. They observed each other for a few seconds, before she said "You found them."

"We found them."

"They won't let us see them."

Mr. Dickenson sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. "I'm sorry, Hilary. They insisted no one got in their way while they performed the necessary surgeries. I don't know much more than you, my dear."

"What do you know?" she asked, her voice shaking.

He put his hand down and looked at her. "Two were already dead by the time we got back. Neither of them were anyone from the team." Hilary released the breath she'd been holding. "We brought back every single person there we could find. They certainly weren't alone up there."

"A nurse told me four people had died," Hilary said. "Do you know who the other two were?"

Mr. Dickenson looked at her in fear. "No, no I don't." He took a sip of his coffee. "How is Max holding up?"

"He's scared. Very scared." Hilary blinked a few tears away. "He doesn't know how to deal with not knowing. We just want to know, Mr. Dickenson."

Suddenly, a sharp melody pierced through the air, and they both jumped. Mr. Dickenson reached for his cell phone and pulled it out of his pocket. "Hello," he said, placing it to his ear. He sat listening for a while, before saying "No wait, I will be there in a few minutes."

"Those are minutes we don't have, Mr. Dickenson. We need a decision now." Hilary heard the voice at the other end say, and her heart skipped a beat. Mr. Dickenson's face broke into a grimace of sorrow, and he buried it in his hands.

"You have my permission," he said.

"Thank you." A loud beeping signaled the end of the conversation, and Mr. Dickenson put the phone away. His back started shaking, and Hilary walked around the desk to put a hand on his shoulder. A few tears fell on the desk, and mixed with the coffee river around the cup.

"Mr. Dickenson?" she asked, almost just a whisper. "Please. Please tell me."

He kept his hands covering his face. "It's Ray. They needed permission to amputate his leg."

Hilary stood in frozen silence, staring into nothing. Her head felt strangely empty of all thoughts, as if her body wanted to save her from what Mr. Dickenson was going through at that moment. "I-I can't believe this," he mumbled. "Why is this happening?"

Hilary took a deep breath. "Come on, Mr. Dickenson. Let's go over there."

It felt like an eternity before they finally reached the corridor outside the double doors. There were fewer people there now; most of the All Stars and the Majestics were gone, probably to get some sleep. Tala sat writing on an iPad, Ian and Bryan were in deep conversation, while Spencer, Max, Judy and Grandpa Granger sat in silence. They all looked up when they heard the footsteps, and Max immediately rose to his feet. He was calm now, but looked at Mr. Dickenson like he dared him not to answer his questions.

"Have you heard anything?" Hilary asked. Judy shook her head.

"No, but a doctor came to take over a shift, and he mumbled something about further surgeries."

"What do you know?" Max asked Mr. Dickenson. Judy would have told him to be more polite, if she hadn't felt the exact same way. Mr. Dickenson sat down opposite Max, while Hilary sat down in the same chair she'd spent the night.

"I don't know much, Max. I know that two of the dead are people we don't know, and that something happened while my men were looking for survivors on the ground once we landed. I was told not to get out of the helicopter, so I don't know. I never saw what happened, and there was no time for explanations." He looked over at Hilary. "I know that they are now performing surgery on Ray." Max looked up. "And I believe they have to amputate his leg."

Judy gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Tala lowered the iPad and stared at him. Max remained still, not showing any emotions. "But he will survive?"

"I believe so, yes."

"What about Tyson?"

"Max, I don't know."

"What about Kenny?"

"Max, I-"

"You don't know! " he shouted. "No one knows!"

"Please, dear, please calm down." Judy said, but Max wouldn't listen.

"No. I've had enough." He turned back to Mr. Dickenson. "Those are my teammates in there! My friends! My family! I've been through many of the same things they have, and all I want to know is whose funeral I will be going to in the near future! Is that too much to ask?!"

Max sat down, still fuming. He stared at Mr. Dickenson with a mix of sorrow and anger.

"Yes, it is," Hilary said. Max looked at her.

"Excuse me?"

Hilary met his gaze even stronger. "Ten years, Max. For ten fucking years neither of you bothered to visit each other, and now you demand to be with them? How dare you?!" Hilary felt just as angry as Max looked. She felt it slowly consume her and take control of her words. They were harsh, but deep down, she meant them. "You were best friends for so long, and suddenly you just drift apart? What happened?!"

"Life happened!" Max yelled back.

"That is bullshit!" Hilary shook her head furiously. "I was with Tyson all those years. We may have had some rough times, but still we stuck together. You were his best friend, and he was heartbroken when you left the country. He knew this would happen, and so did you! Still you all just let it happen, and pretended everything would be fine. Why would you stop practicing the sport you loved more than anything? The one great thing that united so many different people and made you a team? Why would you let that go to waste, Max? Why!?"

"I don't know why!" Max yelled, tears now streaming down his face. "I don't know! I was unsure of what I wanted! Ray wanted to be with Mariah, Tyson wanted you, Kai wanted to make a difference back in Russia, and Kenny wanted to keep researching! But what did I have, huh? I had nothing, Hilary! Nothing! We knew we wouldn't be a team forever, but when that time came, we had no idea how to deal with it. I hoped to unite us all again someday, but that day just never came. Not until that day we met at the airport. And now look at us." He looked from Hilary, to Mr. Dickenson, to Tala, to Judy.

"What are we now? Broken and more divided then we've ever been."

"That's not what I see," said Grandpa Granger. They all looked at him in surprise. "I see crowds of people gathered in honest concern for friends they haven't seen in ten years. I see you, Max, fighting to keep your teammates safe. And I see us all trying to make it through this together. We might be a bit broken, but we haven't been this united in ten years."

Mr. Dickenson smiled faintly at his words. They all jumped when the door suddenly opened, and an unfamiliar man in a white coat stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Mr. Dickenson rose from his seat.

"Dr. Walker," he said. The doctor gave him a nod, and glanced quickly at the rest of them over a pair of glasses.

"I'm sorry for the wait, I know this hasn't been easy for you," he said. "I'm glad to say we have finished all of the surgeries we can do for now."

"Doctor, we don't know anything," Max said. "Please. Please, tell us everything you know."

Doctor Walker sighed, but nodded. "Alright. Two of the patients were already dead by the time you came here. They were-" he looked at the papers in his hand. "Piotr Antonov and Dimitri Barsukow. Antonov died from the fire, while Barsukow suffered a gunshot to the head."

"Fire?" Hilary whispered, but Max shushed at her.

"The third casualty occurred while we were doing surgery, I'm afraid. Daniel Weimarkh. We couldn't save him. The fourth occurred just a few hours ago, we couldn't save him due to the severe blood loss. Kenny Saien."

It felt like all the blood in her head had turned to ice. She stared at the doctor, not really seeing. Max buried his face in his hands, and sunk back in his chair. He sat in silence for a long time. Judy held him close, and he no longer resisted.

"A-and the rest?" Tala asked.

Doctor Walker looked down at his papers again. "Two of the patients are awake. Mikhail Asimov, and Kristian Bakke. They both only suffered minor injuries."

"I don't even know who these people are," Ian said.

"They were there with the pilots," Mr. Dickenson said. His eyes were dull and lifeless.

"As for Tyson Granger," the doctor turned towards Grandpa Granger, and Max looked up, but never at the doctor. "He has suffered a blow to the head. We have searched for anything more serious than a concussion, but we have yet to find anything. He has a few broken ribs, and a deep cut in his shoulder, though we don't know what caused this. He also has a high degree of hypothermia and dehydration. He is stable and unconscious at the moment. I am afraid though, that we had to amputate three of his fingers." He held up the little and the ring finger on his left hand, and pointed to the index finger on his right.

Grandpa Granger looked down at his own wrinkled hands. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Hilary shivered. She wanted to burst through the doors and search for him, but something kept her down. The fear of everything. Would he be glad to see her? Would he even understand what had happened to him? And even if he did, how could he accept it?

The doctor cleared his throat. "Ray Kon. His most severe injury was his legs. The bone had been crushed, and the skin badly damaged. We managed to save the left, but we had to amputate the right leg just under the knee." Max made a strange sound that reminded them of a wounded animal. "He also had broken ribs, five in total, and serious hypothermia. We are still trying to regulate his body temperature. He will also have some visible scarring on his face, from the frost damage to the skin."

They all looked at anything but each other. Hilary needed to be alone. She needed to hear, but also to understand and register every piece of information in her own mind, free from other broken hearts than her own. It was selfish, but important.

"And Kai?" Tala asked.

Doctor Walker looked at him. "What do you mean?"

Tala raised an eyebrow. "Kai Hiwatari. He's one of the patients."

"I have no other patients, I'm afraid. No Kai Hiwatari came off the helicopters last night."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

_The Beyblade Research Centre, California, USA – March 19th, 11:47_

Somewhere in the chaos, Mr. Dickenson quietly disappeared. People got to their feet, loud voices filled the hallway, and several rumours started spreading. No one noticed, except for Max, who still sat in complete silence, closed inside his own mind where no voices, and no one but him, could endure the anger and grief which threatened to devour every memory, and every thought running through his head. The only sign of frustration were his hands, clenched together so hard his nails dug into his skin. It was the only thing keeping him from floating out of his own body and vanishing for good. The people around him reflected in his empty eyes. They were no more real than a movie playing in front of him. He was watching their misery, and their confusion. None of it was real. Why would he be bothered with their strange, little world? But he could not turn it off. It would not end just because he wanted it to.

He watched as Mr. Dickenson disappeared down the hall, and frowned, wondering what he was up to. Judy had also noticed, and let him follow the man without arguing, instead trying to calm down Tala, who was by now furiously interrogating the doctor. Their voices became a strange blur, mixed with the dull lights and the sleepy darkness had had to venture through to reach Mr. Dickenson. He walked beside him in silence down the steps, but soon summed up the courage to ask.

"Where are you going?"

Mr. Dickenson refused to look at him, and this annoyed Max greatly. "Russia," he replied. Max suddenly stopped, and had to run in order to catch up with him a second time.

"Why?"

"This has gone too far, Max," he said. "It's time I end this right at the source."

"You're going to talk to Voltaire?" Max stared wide-eyed at him.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do." Now it was Mr. Dickenson's turn to stop, and Max walked almost halfway down the stairs before he noticed. "But I will need your help, Max."

From the bottom of the stairs, the contrast between the two struck Max as almost ridiculous. Here he stood, small, still recovering, shaking with anger and confusion, and still with a bullet wound that ached in his chest, looking at the finely dressed businessman, in whose eyes a fire of determination had finally been lit. "Anything," he said, and meant it.

"The doctor said Asimov is awake," Mr. Dickenson looked deep in thought, like a chess player contemplating his next move. "You and Tala need to talk to him."

"But what can-?"

"Just do it. He knows he's trapped. Threaten him, blackmail him, do anything you can to get some answers. He must know something. Talk to the other guy too; Bakke." Mr. Dickenson slowly turned his head to look Max straight in the eyes. "And Erik. The moment he wakes up, demand answers. Tell Dr. Walker you have my permission."

"Alright," Max said. He stood quietly as Mr. Dickenson walked past him, and stared after him as he made his way down to the lobby. Just before he disappeared around a corner, he looked back, like he had changed his mind.

"And tell Enrique to talk to his Captain. Any developments from either of you, and you text me right away. I will let you know the moment I arrive in Moscow." And then he was gone.

Max stood, feeling his heart race in his chest, with one hand resting on the banister. By the time he came back to the hallway, it was again full of people, like last night. A hollow anxiety started building up inside him, as if he was about to give a speech in front of a large gathering. He whispered a few quick words to Enrique as he passed him, and felt him watching as he pulled Tala aside. Doctor Walker seemed grateful for a moment.

"Dr. Walker, I'm aware that your main concern is the well-being of your patients, but we have very little time to waste. I want to speak to Mikhail Asimov." He silently dared him to refuse. Every voice faded away, and they all watched as Dr. Walker straightened his glasses.

"Mr. Tate, I'm afraid that I cannot allow that. Mr. Asimov is still too-" His glasses broke the second Max's fist connected with his face. The doctor fell to the ground immediately, with a hand covering his hopefully broken nose. Max didn't bother to register the other's reactions, before turning around.

"Tala!" he said, and only a short second later, Tala ran past him, and kicked the door wide open. It slammed back from the wall, and revealed a narrow hallway, brightly lit, and with walls covered in doors. A couple of nurses shrieked in surprise as Tala came bursting through the doors, regained his balance after he slammed into the opposite wall, and nodded with a polite "Ladies."

"Where is Mikhail Asimov's room?" Max asked the minute he got through the door. He heard Judy trying to keep everyone outside, and silently thanked her. This would all be difficult enough, and having a group of people with them would not be making it better. He only noticed a blur of brown hair, as Hilary ran past him, and down the left hand side of the hall. One of the nurses pointed to the door at the far right hand side, and Max gave her a nod as thanks. He followed Tala down the hall, and opened the door.

Voices could be heard through it, but they fell quiet as the door swung up, and revealed a small room with only two occupied beds, although three more filled the room. They only saw very basic medical equipment. Another doctor, a woman with blonde hair tied into a short ponytail, frowned as they entered.

"You're not supposed to be in here!"

"Dr. Walker let us in," Max said, not really lying. "He said he needed you. Something about a broken nose."

"A broken-?"

"It's alright, ma'am," said one of the patients. He was a man in his late forties, with a rugged short beard, and thick eyebrows, which almost blocked out a pair of green eyes. He looked misplaced in the white hospital shirt, and obviously belonged in a uniform. The doctor looked like she very much wanted to protest, but let it go, sent Max a look of suspicion, and closed the door behind her. Max looked in the direction of the other patient on the opposite end of the room. He was a few years younger, and fast asleep.

"Are you Mikhail Asimov?" Max asked.

"I am," said the man, with the kind of voice you get after decades of smoking. "And you are Max Tate… and," he looked at Tala. "Tala Valkov? I expected Mr. Dickenson." He sat up a bit, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"We'll have to do," Max replied. He walked closer, and sat down on the bed beside Asimov. Tala preferred to remain standing. He probably recognised the look in Asimov's eyes, the one they all got, those who had spent any amount of time in The Abbey. He would never admit it, but a shiver ran down his spine. He saw the same look every time he gazed into a mirror.

"I made up my mind several hours ago, though," said Asimov. "I came to the conclusion, as did Bakke over there," he nodded towards the sleeping patient. "That there isn't much we can do about this situation."

"What do you mean?" Tala asked. Only he and Asimov noticed the real question behind it. Why would you say that? We both know that despite your injuries, you would both be able to break out of the building no matter who stood in your way. However, Asimov chose to ignore it.

"I mean that I'm going to make things very simple for you two." He reached for a glass of water, leant back and looked at them in anticipation. "Whatever your questions are, I will answer them."

"We can't know for sure that you will be telling the truth." Max said.

Asimov looked at him for a few seconds, before he reached for something on the nightstand. It was a necklace, or a dog tag, like those used by the military. His name and date of birth was engraved on it, along with several small holes along the bottom.

"See those? There are twenty of them," Asimov said, and put the dog tag back on the nightstand. "One for each year I've been in Voltaire's service. This is the very first time I've been captured by anyone, and it's the best thing to happen to me in twenty years. I'm not going back, so I have no loyalty to consider."

Max looked at Tala, who nodded.

"Alright," Max started. "First off, why would Voltaire want to kill us now, after ten years?"

Asimov laughed. "Yes, you would think he'd grown tired of trying. And no, dear boy, it's not for the reason you think. No one is interested in your bitbeasts anymore."

"Then why?"

"Because he's sick of you. He has this obsession with honour, and to him, you were the opponents who bested him in battle so many times, he feels it as shame upon his family. He had nothing to gain by this, and he knows it. He knows that he is only a shadow of his former glory, and believe it or not, he's willing to move on. But not with the knowledge of you walking around free, when he can't. It's vengeance, Mr. Tate. Sometimes it's just that simple."

"And the plane?"

"Voltaire has men on the inside. Even here."

"Wait," Tala raised an eyebrow. "You mean-?"

"Of course. You know what he's capable of more than anyone, Mr. Valkov. Mr. Dickenson needs to fire a few employees, I'm afraid. This whole plan would never have worked without them."

"Mr. Asimov," Max said. "Will you please tell us the whole plan, from the beginning?"

Asimov looked up at the ceiling, thinking back, and searching his memories. "From the beginning, huh? Well. Dimitri Barsukov told me of this assignment six months ago. He was my commanding officer at the time. I now hold the same rank as he did. Barsukov and Erik Aasgaard, a young Norwegian pilot, were the ones who were going to crash the plane. I assume Voltaire had told Aasgaard to kill Barsukov at some point, because I saw when he shot him in the helicopter. However, I do not know why Voltaire needed to get rid of Barsukov. He was a good officer, as far as I know."

"What was your part in all of this?"

"I was told to come get Aasgaard after the plane crash. He was supposed to wait in a cabin a few kilometres away, but that's where I was surprised. They were all alive. Even Barsukov. I suppose Aasgaard needed him to hunt down the survivors with him. But Barsukov was a smart man, I'm sure he understood that he wasn't supposed to survive anyway."

"He helped Tyson, and the others?"

"Seems like it," Asimov said simply. "I don't know how they managed to send us a GPS signal, but we soon found them on our radar, and they took over the helicopter. My men and I were tied up in the back."

"Barsukov was going to bring them back here?"

"Hey, I don't know. I know that he was well on his way, but Aasgaard got a hold of the gun one of the boys were holding, and shot Barsukov. He then took over, and said something to Mr. Dickenson through the radio. I don't know what went through his head, but Mr. Hiwatari ended it. He attacked him, and somehow managed to open the second pilots' door, so they both fell out."

"How did you get loose?"

"It was the boy with the long, black hair-"

"Ray."

"Yeah, he let me go the same time Mr. Hiwatari attacked Aasgaard. I think it was just a not very well thought out plan. But I was the only pilot left."

"But why would you not just take over where Aasgaard left off? Why not just fly them further away from California?"

Asimov looked at him as if he was insane. "Those helicopters are not built for flying across the Atlantic, boy! Haha, no, I'm sure Mr. Aasgaard knew of a place he could take those boys, but I sure didn't. I would be shot if I came back to my base with both the boys and Mr. Aasgaard alive."

"Wait," Tala interrupted, holding up a hand. "Aasgaard wasn't supposed to return at all?"

"Yes he was," Asimov said. "In a body bag. Aasgaard and Barsukov were ordered to crash the plane, and Aasgaard was then supposed to kill Barsukov. I would pretend to pick him up, but I was then going to kill Aasgaard. That way, Voltaire would be rid of everyone he wanted gone."

"But why?!" Tala asked, frustrated and impatient.

"Haven't the faintest," Asimov answered, and it was easy to see that he enjoyed making Tala more angry. "I did as I was ordered. Or, I tried."

"What happened after you took over the helicopter?"

"I tried to save us all, the best I could, but we were already too close to the ground. The rotor blades hit the treetops, and we crashed. The back of the helicopter hit the ground first, and most of it was crushed before it caught fire. My men were back there, and of them, only Bakke is left." He looked over at his fellow soldier.

"Always ready for service, Captain," came a soft voice from the bed.

"Oh, shut up, you idiot," Asimov replied. "Go back to sleep."

"Anyway," Asimov continued. "Bakke and I got some people out. I would have left the youngest, the one who was already dying, but the other two boys insisted. I noticed the other helicopters would be landing soon, so I took the only chance I had. Killing the boys was not my job, but I could still get rid of Aasgaard. I ran in the direction of their voices, and I fired twice. The first bullet hit Aasgaard in the knee. I was standing quite far away, and they were both moving too fast."

"They were fighting?" Tala asked.

"Yeah. Unfortunately, when Aasgaard fell, he landed on his knees, right in front of Mr. Hiwatari, but it was the only chance I had. I could hear the people from the other helicopters heading in our direction."

"So you shot anyway?"

"Yes. I hit them both." Asimov pointed to a dark bruise on his cheek. "One of the boys gave me this, before they ran towards them. Someone bound my hands, and forced me into a helicopter, and I saw Aasgaard, the boys and my men being carried inside, before we took off and headed for California."

"Can you specifically remember the people you saw being carried inside?" asked Tala.

Asimov sighed deeply, and looked up at the ceiling again. "Ehm, well. Aasgaard. All of my men. The one you called Ray, and the one who punched me. They carried in the injured boy and Mr. Hiwatari… I think that was all I saw. But there were no one left outside, I'm quite sure of that."

"You saw that they got Kai into a helicopter."

"Yes, absolutely. There were four helicopters all together. I shared one with three of my men, with two pilots. Why?"

"Could you see if Kai shared a helicopter with anyone?"

"Ehm… nooo. No, when you mention it. I don't think he…did." Asimov trailed off, and looked at Max. "He's gone, isn't he? He's not here."

"We have reason to believe he never even arrived." Tala said.

"Son of a bitch," Asimov mumbled.

"Yeah…son of a bitch," Bakke repeated from the other side of the room.

"Seriously, what did they give him?" Asimov whispered and rolled his eyes. "Listen, boys. I have no clue what might have happened to Mr. Hiwatari, but this was not part of any plan, at all. This means that Voltaire is improvising, because he's scared. I don't know for sure, but-" He picked up a pen from the nightstand, and from lack of any paper, reached for Max's hand. He started writing down numbers. "But these are the coordinates I was given when I was ordered to find Aasgaard. And if you want to know who took him, just find out who's missing from the medical staff here at the Centre."

Tala moved slowly towards the door, and Max turned to follow him. He had his hand on the door when they all froze from the sound of Bakke's voice.

"They're brothers, you know," he said. Max turned around so fast he thought his neck would break. Bakke was barely visible in the dimly lit room, but as Max came closer, he noticed more and more about him. He had burn marks on his face, and his hands were completely covered in bandages. Beneath the injuries, he had a pleasant face, and eyes like a child. Bakke could not be more different from Asimov.

"What did you say?" Max whispered.

"Hiwatari and Aasgaard," Bakke replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Tala stood staring in silence by the door. Every word spoken by Bakke, changed his world just a little. Small pieces of the picture he had of his past, changed colours and shape, until he was altered, if only for a little while, deep inside where only a few had access. Even here, he felt the Russian winter touch him like a hand put gently over his eyes, to let him see something he had never understood before. He knew Max felt the same. He looked patient and calm, but inside, thousands of thoughts, emotions and questions had become a storm, and it was impossible to tell in what state the storm would finally leave him.

Bakke looked from Asimov, who sat with a frown on his face, as if trying to piece together a meaning from Bakke's words, to Max, who was now fighting to keep from grabbing the injured man and shaking the words out of him. "Well, you… You said we have no allegiance to Voltaire anymore, right?"

"Right," Asimov said. "Kristian, if you know something we don't, then please, do tell before Mr. Tate slaps it out of you."

"Yes, sir," Bakke smirked. "I came to The Abbey around the same time as Aasgaard. We were kids, and tried to stick together since we came from the same place, and it was easier that way. We went through normal training for a few years, but at some point Aasgaard was chosen to become part of a more advanced training group. I believe you joined the year after, Mr. Valkov, isn't that so?"

Tala escaped his trance long enough to give a faint nod.

Bakke continued. "When they were choosing the students, they had us battling each other, until only three winners could become part of the group. I had been advised to lose my battle, and I did, so I don't know what happened to him after that. I saw him though, now and then, passing him in the hallways, or training in the same room as him. He never even looked at me. But I remember the day when Mr. Hiwatari inherited Black Dranzer. He wrecked half the building, and of course people gathered to see what had happened. I stood close to Aasgaard, and I heard him whisper to himself, in our native language, that he should have gotten that bitbeast, that he was the eldest. He noticed me as I tried to disappear in the crowd, and I saw true fear in his eyes that day. He probably thought I would find a way to use it against him." Bakke looked up at Max. "He started training to become a pilot only a few days later."

Max thanked him, and without another word, turned to walk out the door again. Tala let him pass, nodded politely at the two men, closed the door behind them, and followed Max down the hall. He was expecting him to open the first door he found, in search of anyone who could give him more answers, but after a few steps, he slowed down, and stood staring at his shoes. Tala put a hand on his shoulder, and waited to let him say whatever he needed to say.

"This is such a mess," Max mumbled. "I don't understand half of it." He put his good hand over his eyes, and sighed. "And I'm so tired."

"Me too," Tala said. "All of this, it's… It's just so much more than any of us can handle." He leaned toward the white wall and closed his eyes for a little while. The darkness felt cold on his mind, and he welcomed it. "Do you remember the last thing they said to you before the plane crashed?"

The question can out of nowhere, and not surprised not only Max, but Tala too. He was about to say he could just forget about it, when Max said

"'The GPS still showed we were above the Rockies only five minutes ago…'" Max felt like every emotion and thought inside his head suddenly left him empty and motionless. He lifted his head, slowly, and met Tala's eyes. "Kenny. That was the last thing he said to me. The GPS. Five minutes…"

"Max?" Tala moved away from the wall, and closer to him. "Are you okay?"

"Oh my god… Asimov." Max gasped, and grabbed Tala's shoulder. "Do you remember what he said? He said they had showed up on the radar…" Max suddenly started walking down the hall, not towards another room, but towards the broken door. They went through the now empty hallway, and down the stairs.

"And your point is?" Tala asked.

"Kenny had a GPS installed on Dizzy, that's how he could tell we were over the Rockies, and that's how Asimov could find them, they used Dizzy!"

"But how can that help us? I'm pretty sure Dizzy came back with them last night."

"That's right, she's in the hangar with everything else they found at the crash site."

"Then how-?"

Max stopped in the lobby, and turned to Tala with a glint of hope in his eyes. "Ten years ago, we parted knowing we were still bound by something no distance could take away. I don't need the computer. I need the bitbeast. Dizzy can find Dranzer. And when we find Dranzer…we find Kai."

* * *

_The Los Angeles International Airport, California, USA – March 19th, 12:00_

Mr. Dickenson took a deep breath as he watched the doors open at gate 47, and a whole bunch of people came out. It must have been a long flight, judging by the ones stretching their legs and rubbing their eyes. He looked at his own gate, 46, and waited impatiently for it to open and let him take his seat on the plane. Finally, someone came to open the door, and he showed his passport and ticket, before almost running through the door. He felt like he left a completely different world behind, and threw himself into something dangerous and unknown, where anything could happen. He didn't know that when he entered the door to gate 46, the last passenger exited gate 48.

Katya took off her jacket, and felt the warm sun on her pale skin. She found the note on which she had scribbled the right address, before she walked through the airport, found a taxi, and saw the world pass outside the car window, until she stood outside the Beyblade Research Centre.


End file.
